JOHNNIE 

COTJRTFAU 


WILLIAM    HENRY      DRUHMOND 


0 


7 
9 

2 

5 
6 


By  the  Author  of  "  THE  HABITANT 


it 


By  WILLIAM   HENRY  DRUMMOND 


The  Habitant,  and  other  French-Canadian 
Poems.       Illustrated   by  Frederick  Simpson 
Coburn       Library  edition.     8°  . 
Large-paper  edition,  with  13  full-page  photo- 
gravures.    8°      .... 

"  Dr.  Drummond  has  managed  to  move  us  to  tears,  as 
well  as  laughter.  He  has  evidently  a  minute  knowledge 
of,  and  kindly  sympathy  with,  the  simple  country  folk  of 
the  Dominion.  Asa  whole,  the  book  is  a  most  delight- 
ful one." — London  Spectator. 

Johnnie  Courteau,  and  other  Poems.  Illus- 
trated by  Frederick  S.  Coburn. 

Popular  edition.      8°.      Illustrated, 

Large-paper    edition.       8°.       With    17    photo- 
gravure illustrations  and  text  cuts, 

Phil-o-rum's  Canoe  and  Madeleine  Ver- 
cheres.  Two  Poems.  With  photogravure 
illustrations  from  designs  by  Frederick  Simp- 
son Coburn.     8° . 


G.   P.   PUTNAM'S    SONS 

NEW  YORK   AND   LONDON 


—    vre&lrkk  i  coev^N  — ' 


The  Cure  of  Calumette. 


^JOHNNIE 
COURTEAU 

::::::  A  N  D 
OTHER    POEMS 

3%  Bv  William  Henry 
Drummond   j£  ^ 

Author  of  "The  Habitant,"  etc. 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 

rrederick  SimDson  Coburn 


New  York  and  London 

0.  P.  Putnam's  Sons 

1901 


Copyright,  igoi 
BY- 
WILLIAM  HENRY  DRUMMOND 


"Cbc  IRnicfcctbocfccr  (press,  1ftcw  H?orh 


X>3. 


'/ 


DEDICATED    TO 

HON.  PETER  WHITE,  A.M. 

MARQUETTE,    MICHIGAN 


•  The  dearest  friend  to  me,  the  kindest  man. 
The  best  condition'd  and  unwearied  spirit 
In  doing  courtesies." 

Merchant  of  Venice. 


626220 


CONTENTS 


Johnnie  Courteau 
The  Corduroy  Road 

The  Cure  of  Calumette 

The  Oyster  Schooner 

My  Little  Cabane 

Bateese  the  Lucky  Man 

The  Hill  of  St.  Sebastien. 

Marie  Louise 

The  Old  House  and  the  New 

The  Canadian  Country  Doctoi 

Mon  Frere  Camille     . 

The  Habitant's  Summer 

Little  Lac  Grenier    . 

The  Windigo 

National  Policy 

Autumn  Days 

Madeleine  Vercheres 

The  Rose  Delima 


PAGE 

3 

7 

13 

19 

23 
28 

31 

35 
40 

47 
52 
59 
65 
67 

77 
81 

84 

91 


vi                        Contents 

PAGE 

Little  Mouse 

. 

I02 

Strathcona's  Horse   . 

. 

I  06 

Johnnie's  First  Moose 

. 

IOS 

The  Old  Pine  Tree 

. 

H3 

Little  Bateese    . 

. 

116 

Donal'  Campbell 

. 

118 

The  Dublin  Fusilier  . 

. 

121 

Dreams. 

. 

1 26 

The  Old  Sexton  . 

. 

128 

Child  Thoughts  . 

. 

132 

Bateese  and  his  Little 

Decoys 

135 

Phil-o-Rum's  Canoe     . 

. 

140 

The  Log  Jam 

. 

145 

The  Canadian  Magpie 

. 

J5i 

The  Red  Canoe    . 

. 

i55 

Two  Hundred  Years  Ago 

•         • 

T57 

Remember  when  these  tales  you  read 
Of  rude  but  honest  "  Canayen," 
That  Joliet,  La  Verandrye, 
La  Salle,  Marquette,  and  Hennepin 
Were  all  true  "Canayen"  themselves — 
And  in  their  veins  the  same  red  stream  : 
The  conquering  blood  of  Normandie 
Flowed  strong,  and  gave  America 
Coureurs  de  bois  and  voyageurs 
Whose  trail  extends  from  sea  to  sea  ! 


Johnnie  Courteau 


Johnnie  Courteau 

JOHNNIE  Courteau  of  de  mountain 
Johnnie  Courteau  of  de  hill 
Dat  was  de  boy  can  shoot  de  gun 
Dat  was  de  boy  can  jomp  an'  run 
An'  it  's  not  very  offen  you  ketch  heem  still 

Johnnie  Courteau! 

Ax  dem  along  de  reever 

Ax  dem  along  de  shore 

Who  was  de  mos'  bes'  fightin'  man 

From  Managance  to  Shaw-in-i-gan  ? 

De  place  w'ere  de  great  beeg  rapide  roar, 

Johnnie  Courteau! 

Sam'  t'ing  on  ev'ry  shaintee 

Up  on  de  Mekinac 

Who  was  de  man  can  walk  de  log, 

W'en  w'ole  of  de  reever  she  's  black  wit'  fog 

An'  carry  de  beeges'  load  on  hees  back  ? 

Johnnie  Courteau ! 

On  de  rapide  you  want  to  see  heem 
If  de  raf  she  's  swingin'  roun' 


4  Johnnie  Courteau 

An'   he    's    yellin'    "  Hooraw    Bateese!    good 

man !  " 
W'y  de  oar  come  double  on  hees  han' 
Wen  he  's  makin'  dat  raf  go  flyin'  down 

Johnnie  Courteau! 

An'  Tete  de  Roule  chief  can  tole  you 

De  feller  w'at  save  hees  life 

Wen  beeg  moose  ketch  heem  up  a  tree 

Who  's  shootin'  dat  moose  on  de  head,  sapree! 

An'  den  run  off  wit'  hees  Injun  wife  ? 

Johnnie  Courteau! 

An'  he  only  have  pike  pole  wit'  heem 
On  Lac  a  la  Tortue 

Wen  he  meet  de  bear  comin'  down  de  hill 
But  de  bear  very  soon  is  get  hees  fill ! 
An'  he  sole  dat  skin  for  ten  dollar  too, 

Johnnie  Courteau! 

Oh  he  never  was  scare  for  not'ing 

Lak  de  ole  coureurs  de  bois, 

But  w'en  he  's  gettin'  hees  winter  pay 

De  bes'  t'ing  sure  is  kip  out  de  way 

For  he  's  goin'  right  off  on  de  Hip  Hooraw! 

Johnnie  Courteau ! 

Den  pullin'  hees  sash  aroun'  heem 

He  dance  on  hees  botte  sauvage 

An'  shout  "  All  aboar'  if  you  want  to  fight!  ' 


Johnnie  Courteau  5 

Wall!  you  never  can  see  de  finer  sight 

Wen  he  go  lak  dat  on  de  w'ole  village! 

Johnnie  Courteau! 

But  Johnnie  Courteau  get  marry 

On  Philomene  Beaurepaire 

She  's  nice  leetle  girl  was  run  de  school 

On  w'at  you  call  Parish  of  Sainte  Ursule 

An'  he  see  her  off  on  de  pique-nique  dere 

Johnnie  Courteau! 

Den  somet'ing  come  over  Johnnie 
Wen  he  marry  on  Philomene 
For  he  stay  on  de  farm  de  w'ole  year  roun' 
He  chop  de  wood  an'  he  plough  de  groun' 
An'  he  's  quieter  feller  was  never  seen, 

Johnnie  Courteau! 

An'  ev'ry  wan  feel  astonish 

From  La  Tuque  to  Shavv-in-i-gan 

Wen  dey  hear  de  news  was  goin'  aroun' 

Along  on  de  reever  up  an'  down 

How  wan  leetle  woman  boss  dat  beeg  man 

Johnnie  Courteau! 

He  never  come  out  on  de  evening 
No  matter  de  hard  we  try 

'Cos  he  stay  on  de  kitchen  an'  sing  hees  song 
A  la  claire  fontaine, 

M'en  allant  promener, 

J'ai  trouve  l'eau  si  belle 


6  Johnnie  Courteau 

Que  je  m'y  suis  baigner! 

Lui  y'a  longtemps  que  je  t'aime 

Jamais  je  ne  t'oublierai." 

Rockin'  de  cradle  de  w'ole  night  long 
Till  baby  's  asleep  on  de  sweet  bimeby 

Johnnie  Courteau! 

An'  de  house,  wall!  I  wish  you  see  it 

De  place  she  's  so  nice  an'  clean 

Mus'  wipe  your  foot  on  de  outside  door, 

You  're  dead  man  sure  if  you  spit  on  de  floor, 

An'  he  never  say  not'ing  on  Philomene, 

Johnnie  Courteau! 

An'  Philomene  watch  de  monee 

An'  put  it  all  safe  away 

On  very  good  place;  I  dunno  w'ere 

But  anyhow  nobody  see  it  dere 

So  she  's  buyin'  new  farm  de  noder  day 

Madame  Courteau ! 


>^fsm 


,0^> 


The  Corduroy  Road 

DE  corduroy  road  go  bompety  bomp, 
De  corduroy  road  go  jompety  jomp, 
An'  he  's  takin'  beeg  chances  upset  hees  load 
De  horse  dat  '11  trot  on  de  corduroy  road. 

Of   course  it  's   purty    rough,    but    it's   handy 

t'ing  enough 
An'  dey  mak'  it  wit'  de  log  all  jine  togeder 
Wen  dey  strek   de  swampy  groun'   w'ere  de 

water  hang  aroun' 
Or  passin'  by  some  tough  ole  beaver  medder. 


Rut  it  's  not  macadamize,  so  if  you   're   only 

wise 
You    will    tak'    your    tarn   an'    never   min'   de 

worry 
For    de  corduroy  is    bad,   an'    will  mak'    you 

plaintee  mad 
By  de  way  de  buggy  jomp,  in  case  you  hurry. 

7 


8  The  Corduroy  Road 

An'  I  'm  sure  you  don't  expec'  leetle  Victorine 

Leveque 
She    was    knowin'    moche    at    all    about    dem 

places, 
'Cos  she  's  never  dere  before,  till  young  Zeph- 

irin  Madore 
He  was  takin'  her  away  for  see  de  races. 

O,  I  wish  you  see  her  den,  dat   's  before  she 

marry,  w'en 
She  's  de  fines'  on  de  Ian'  but  no  use  talkin' 
I  can  bet  you  w'at  you  lak,  if  you   meet  her 

you  look  back 
Jus'  to  watch  de  fancy  way  dat  girl  is  walkin'. 

Yass  de  leetle  Victorine  was  de  nices'  girl  be- 
tween 

De  town  of  Yamachiche  an'  Maskinonge, 

But  she  's  stuck  up  an'  she  's  proud,  an'  you  '11 
never  count  de  crowd 

Of  de  boy  she  geev'  it  w'at  dey  call  de  conge. 

Ah!    de  moder  spoil    her    sure,    for   even   Joe 

D'Amour 
W'en   he   's  ready  nearly  ev'ry  t'ing  to  geev 

her 
If  she  mak'  de  mariee,  only  say,     '  please  go 

away  " 
An'  he  's  riches  habitant  along  de  reever. 


The  Corduroy  Road  9 

Zephirin  he  try  it  too,  an'  he  's  workin'  some- 


t  ing  new 


For  he  's  makin'  de  ole  woman  many  presen' 
Prize  package  on  de  train,  umbrella  for  de  rain 
But    she    's    grompy    all    de    tarn,    an'    never 
pleasan'. 


Wall,  w'en  he  ax  Ma-dame   tak'  de  girl  away 

dat  tarn 
See  dem  races  on  Sorel  wit'  all  de  trotter 
De   moder   say  "  All   right    if  you    bring    her 

home  to-night 
Before   de    cow   's    milk,    I    let     her    go,    ma 

daughter." 


So  Victorine  she  go  wit'  Zephirin  her  beau 
On  de  yankee  buggy  mak'  it  on  St.  Bruno 
An'  w'  en  dey  pass  hotel  on  de  middle  of  Sorel 
Dey    're   puttin'    on  de  beeges'   style  dat  you 
know. 


Wall !    dey   got    some    good    horse    dere,    but 

Zephirin  don't  care 
He  's  back  it  up  hees  own  paroisse,  ba  golly, 
An'  he  mak'  it  t'ree  doll-arre  w'en  Maskinonge 

Star 
Om  de  two  mile  heat  was  beatin'  Sorel  Molly. 


io  The  Corduroy  Road 

Victorine  don't  min'  at  all,  till  de  "  free    for 

all  "  dey  call 
Dat  's  de  las'  race  dey  was  run  before  de  snow  fly 
Den  she  say  "  I  t'ink  de  cow  mus'  be  gettin' 

home  soon  now 
An'  you  know  it  's  only  clock  ole  woman  go  by. 

An'  if  we  're  comin'  late  w'en  de  cow  pass  on 

de  gate 
You  '11  be  sorry  if  you  hear  de  way  she  talk 

dere, 
So  w'en  I  see  de  race  on  Sorel  or  any  place 
Affer  dis,  you  may  be  sure  I  got  to  walk  dere." 

Den  he  laugh  dat  Zephirin,  an'  he  say  "  Your 

poor  mama 
I  know  de  pile  she  t'ink  about  her  daughter 
So  we  '11  tak'   de  short  road  back  on  de  cor- 
duroy race  track 
Don't  matter  if  we  got  to  sweem  de  water." 

No  wonder  he  is  smile  till  you  hear  heem  half 

a  mile 
For  dat  morning  he  was  tole  hees  leetle  broder 
Let   de  cattle  out   de  gate,  so  he    know  it   's 

purty  late 
By  de  tarn  dem  cow  was  findin*  out  each  oder. 

So  along  de  corduroy  de  young  girl  an'  de  boy 
Dey  was  kipin'  up  a  joggin'  nice  an'  steady 


The  Corduroy  Road  i  r 

It  is  n't  heavy  load,  an'  Guillaume  he  know  de 

road 
For  many  tarn  he  's  been  dat  way  already. 


But  de  girl  she  fin'  it  slow,  so  she  ax  de  boy 

to  go 
Somet'ing  better  dan  a  mile  on  fifteen  minute 
An'  he  's  touch  heem   up  Guillaume;   so  dat 

horse  he  lay  for  home 
An'  de  nex'  t'ing  Victorine  she  know  she  's 

in  it. 


O,  pull  him  in,"  she  yell,  "  for  even  on  Sorel 
I  am  sure  I  never  see  de  quicker  racer," 
Rut  it  's  leetle  bit  too  late,  for  de  horse  is  get 

hees  gait 
An'  de  worse  of  all  ba  gosh!  Guillaume  's  a 

pacer. 

See  hees  tail  upon  de  air,  no  wonder  she  was 

scare 
But    she    hang    on    lak    de    winter    on    T'ree 

Reever. 
Cryin'   out — "  please   hoi'   me  tight,    or    I   'm 

comin'  dead  to-night 
An'  ma  poor  ole  moder  dear,  I  got  to  leave 

her." 


12  The  Corduroy  Road 

Wit'  her  arm  arourT  hees  wais' ;  she  was  doin' 

it  in  case 
She  bus'  her  head,  or  keel  herse'f,  it  's  not  so 

easy  say in' 
Dey  was  comin'  on  de  jomp  t'roo  dat  dam  ole 

beaver  swamp 
An'  meet  de  crowd  is  lookin'  for  dem  cow  was 

go  a-strayin'. 

Den  she  's  cryin',  Victorine,  for  she  's  knowin' 

w'at  it  mean 
De  parish  dey  was  talkin'  firse  chances  dey  be 

gettin', 
But  no  sooner  dat  young  man  stop  de  horse, 

he  tak'  her  han' 
An'  w'isper  "  never  min',  ma  chere,  won't  do 

no  good  a-frettin'." 


t>v 


Non!  she  is  n't  cryin'   long,  for  he  tole  her  it 


was  wrong 


She    's  sure  he  save  her  life  too,  or  she  was 

moche  mistaken, 
An'  de  ole  Ma-dame  Leveque  also  kiss  heem 

on  de  neck 
An'  quickly  affer  dat  Hooraw  !  de  man  an'  wife 

dey  're  makin'. 


The  Cure  of  Calumette 


[The  Cure  of  a  French  Canadian  parish,  when  summoned 
to  the  bedside  of  a  dying  member  of  his  flock,  always  carries 
in  his  buggy  or  sleigh  a  bell.  This  bell  serves  two  purposes  : 
first,  it  has  the  effect  of  clearing  a  way  for  the  passage  of  the 
good  priest's  vehicle,  and,  secondly,  it  calls  to  prayer  those  of 
the  faithful  who  are  within  hearing  of  its  solemn  tones.] 


DERE   'S  no  voyageur  on  de  reever  never 
run  hees  canoe  d'ecorce 
T'roo  de  roar  an'  de  rush  of  de  rapide,  w'ere  it 

jump  lak  a  beeg  w'ite  horse, 
Dere  's   no   hunter   man   on   de   prairie,  never 

wear  vv'at  you  call  racquette 
Can    beat    leetle    Fader   O'Hara,    de    Cure    of 
Calumette. 


Hees  fader  is  full-blooded  Irish,  an'  hees  moder 

is  pure  Canayenne, 
Not   often  dat  stock  go   togedder,  but  she    's 

fine  combination  ma  frien' 

13 


14         The  Cure  of  Calumette 

For  de  Irish  he  's  full  of  de  devil,  an'  de  French 

dey  got  savoir  faire, 
Dat  's  inak'  it  de  very  good  balance  an'   tak' 

you  mos'  ev'ry  w'ere. 

But  dere  's  wan  t'ing  de  Cure  wont  stan'  it; 

mak'  fun  on  de  Irlandais 
An'  of  course  on  de  French  we  say  not'ing, 

'cos  de  parish  she  's  all  Canayen, 
Den  you  see  on  account  of  de  moder,  he  can't 

spik  hese'f  very  moche, 
So  de  ole  joke  she  's  all  out  of  fashion,  an'  wan 

of  dern  t'ing  we  don't  touch. 

Wall!  wan  of  dat  kin'  is  de  Cure,  but  w'en  he 

be  com  in'  our  place 
De   peop'   on    de    parish    all    w'isper,    "  How 

young  he  was  look  on  hees  face; 
Too  bad  if  de  wedder  she  keel  heem  de  firse 

tarn  he  got  ieetle  wet, 
An'  de  Bishop  might  sen'  beeger  Cure,  for  it  's 

purty  tough  place,  Calumette!  ' 

Ha!  ha!  how  I  wish  I  was  dere,  me,  w'en  he 

go  on  de  mission  call 
On  de  shaintee  camp  way  up  de  reever,  drivin' 

hees  own  cariole, 


The  Cure  of  Calumette         15 

An'  he  meet  blaggar'  feller  been  drinkin',  jus' 
enough  mak'  heem  ack  lak  fou, 

Joe  Vadeboncoeur,  dey  was  call  heem,  an'  he  's 
purty  beeg  feller  too! 


Mebbe  Joe  he  don't  know  it  's  de  Cure,  so  he  's 

hollerin',  "  Get  out  de  way, 
If  you  don't  geev  me  whole  of  de  roadside, 

sapree !  you  go  off  on  de  sleigh." 
But  de  Cure  he  never  say  not'ing,  jus'  poule 

on  de  line  leetle  bit, 
An'  w'en  Joe  try  for  kip  heem   hees  promise, 

hees  nose  it  get  badly  hit. 


Maudit !  he  was  strong  leetle  Cure,  an'  he  go 

for  Jo-zeph  en  masse 
An'    w'en  he  is  mak'   it  de  finish,    poor    Joe 

isn't  feel  it  firse  class, 
So  nex'   tarn  de  Cure  he  's  goin'  for  visit  de 

shaintee  encore 
Of  course  he  was  mak'  beeges'   mission  never 

see  on  dat  place  before. 


An'  he  know  more,  I  'm  sure  dan  de  lawyer, 
an'  dere  's  many  poor  habitant 

Is  glad  for  see  Fader  O'Hara,  an'  ax  w'at  he 
t'ink  of  de  law 


1 6         The  Cure  of  Calumette 

Wen  dey  get  leetle  troub'  wit'  each  oder,  an' 

don't  know  de  bes'  t'ing  to  do, 
Dat   's  makin'   dem  save  plaintee  monee,  an' 
kip  de  good  neighbor  too. 


But  w'en  we  fin'  out  how  he  paddle  till  canoe 

she  was  nearly  fly 
An'  travel  racquette  on  de  winter,  w'en  snow- 

dreef  is  pilin'  up  high 
For  visit  some  poor  man  or  woman  dat's  waitin' 

de  message  of  peace, 
An'  get  dem  prepare    for  de  journey,   we  're 

proud  on  de  leetle  pries' ! 


O!   many  dark  night  w'en  de  chil'ren  is    put 

away  safe  on  de  bed 
An'    mese'f  an'   ma  femme  mebbe  sittin'  an' 

watchin'  de  small  curly  head 
We  hear  somet'ing  else  dan  de  roar  of  de  ton- 

der,  de  win'  an'  de  rain; 
So  we  're  bote  passin'  out  on  de  doorway,  an' 

lissen  an'  lissen  again. 

An'  it 's  lonesome  for  see  de  beeg  cloud  sweep- 
in'  across  de  sky 

An'  lonesome  for  hear  de  win'  cryin'  lak  some- 
body 's  goin'  to  die, 


The  Cure  of  Calumette  1 7 

But   de   soun'  away  down  de  valley,  creepin' 

aroun'  de  hill 
All  de  tarn  gettin'  closer,  closer,  dat  's  de  soun' 

mak'  de  heart  stan'  still! 


It  's  de  bell  of  de  leetle  Cure,  de  music  of  deat' 

we  hear, 
Along  on  de  black  road  ringin',  an'  soon  it  was 

comin'  near 
Wan  minute  de  face  of  de  Cure  we  see  by  de 

lantern  light, 
An'  he  's  gone  from  us,  jus'  lak  a  shadder,  into 

de  stormy  night. 

An'  de  buggy  rush  down  de  hill  side  an'  over 

de  bridge  below, 
Were    creek    run  so  high  on  de    spring-tarn, 

w'en  mountain  t'row  off  de  snow, 
An'  so  long  as  we  hear  heem  goin',  we  kneel 

on  de  floor  an'  pray 
Dat  God  will  look  affer  de  Cure,  an'  de  poor 

soul  dat  's  passin'  away. 


I  dunno  if  he  need  our  prayer,  but  we  geev'  it 

heem  jus'  de  sam', 
For  w'en  a  man  's  doin'  hees  duty  lak  de  Cure 

do  all  de  tarn 


18         The  Cure  of  Calumette 

Never  min'  all  de  t'ing  may  happen,  no  matter 

he  's  riche  or  poor 
Le  bon  Dieu  was  up  on  de  heaven,  will  look 

out  for  dat  man,  I  'm  sure. 

I    'm   only   poor   habitant    farmer,    an'    mebbe 

know  not'ing  at  all, 
But  dere  's  wan  t'ing  I   'm  alway  wishin',  an' 

dat  's  w'en  I  get  de  call 
For  travel  de  far-away  journey,  ev'ry  wan  on 

de  worl'  mus'  go 
He   '11   be   wit'  me   de  leetle  Cure  'fore  I  'm 

leffin'  dis  place  below. 

For   I  know   I  '11  be  feel  more   easy,    if  he  's 

sittin'  dere  by  de  bed 
An'  he  '11  geev'  me  de  good-bye  message,  an' 

place  hees  han'  on  ma  head, 
Den  I  '11  hoi'  if  he  '11  only  let  me,  dat  han'  till 

de  las'  las'  breat' 
An'    bless  leetle   Fader    O'Hara,    de   Cure    of 

Calumette. 


The  Oyster  Schooner 

W'AT  'S   all    dem    bell   a   ringin'   for,   can 
hear  dem  ev'ry  w'ere  ? 
Wat  's  bring  de  peop    togeder  on  de  w'arf  at 

Trois  Rivieres, 
Dat  happy  crowd  is  look  so  glad,  w'y  are  dey 

comin'  dere  ? 
O!  de  reason   dey  're   so  happy   w'ile   dey  're 

waitin'  dere  to-day 
Is  becos  de  oyster  schooner  she  's  sailin'  up  de 

bay 
An'  de  caraquette  an'   malpecque  will  quickly 

melt  away 
After  she  was  t'row  de  anchor  on  T'ree  Reever. 


For  w'y  dey  mak'  de  fuss  lak  dat,  an'  nearly 
broke  deir  neck, 

Ain't  dey  got  de  noder  oyster  more  better  dan 
malpecque 

Or    caraquette,  dat  leetle  wan  from  down  be- 
low Kebeck  ? 

19 


20  The  Oyster  Schooner 

Wall !  ax  de  crowd  dat  question  w'ile  dey  're 

waitin'  dere  to-day, 
So  glad  to  see  La  Belle  Marie  sailin'  up  de  bay, 
An'  dey  '11  drown  you  on  de  water,  so  you  '11 

know  about  de  way 
She    was   t'rowin'    out    de    anchor   on    T'ree 

Reever. 

Dere  's  ole   Joe    Lachapelle,   he  's    blin',  can 

hardly  see  at  all, 
He  's  bring  de  man  got  wooden  leg  call  Jimmie 

Sauriol, 
An'  bote  dem  feller  jomp  aroun'  lak  mooshrat 

on  de  fall, 
For   dey   know  de  schooner  's  comin',   she   's 

sailin'  up  de  bay, 
An'  de  reason  she   don't  hurry  w'ile  dey    're 

waitin'  dere  to-day, 
Is  becos  she  's  full  of  oyster,  will  quickly  pass 

away 
Wen  dat  schooner  t'row  de  anchor  on  T'ree 

Reever. 

We  've  trottin'  race  las'  winter,  an'  circus  on 

de  spring, 
Wit'  elephan'   an'   monkey  too,  all  playin'  on 

de  ring, 
Hut  beeger  crowd  she  's  comin'  now,  for  w'y  ? 

it  's  differen'  t'ing, 


The  Oyster  Schooner  21 

For    dey  're  waitin'  on   dat    schooner,    she    's 

sailin'  up  de  bay 
Dey  smell  de  malpecque  oyster  an'  caraquette 

to-day 
An'  O !  ba  gosh,  dey  '11   eat   dem  !  it  's  alvvay 

be  de  way 
Wen  dat  schooner  t'row  de  anchor  on  T'ree 

Reever. 

She  's  comin'  in — she  's  comin'  in,"  jus'  lis- 

sen  to  de  cry ! 
Get  out    de   line  an'  hoi'   her  fas',   for   fear 
she  's  passin'  by, 
For  if  dere  's  somet'ing  happen  now,  de  peop' 

will  surely  die." 
Affer  waitin'  on  dat  schooner,  she  's  sailin'  up 

de  bay 
Lak  de  sparrow  on  de  wood-pile  watchin'  all 

de  day, 
But  dey  got  her  safe  enough  now,  she  '11  never 

sail  away 
Till  dem  oyster  she  was  finish  on  T'ree  Reever. 

All  aboar' — comment  ca  va,  Captinne  Beli- 
veau  ? 

We  're  glad  to  see  you  back  again  from  Cara- 
quette below, 

But  we  're  sorry  you  don't  hurry,  w'en  you  got 


such  nice  car-go." 


22  The  Oyster  Schooner 

So  dey  ketch  dat  oyster  schooner,  she  's  sailin' 

up  de  bay, 
Dey  ketch  her  an'  dey  hoi'  her  till  de  oyster  's 

gone  away 
An'  she  's  two  foot    out  de    water  La    Belle 

Marie  nex'  day 
After  she  was  t  row  de  anchor  on  T'ree  Reever. 


*Z 


&r:-  >      y?'-v»3'  ^ 


H-O/v    Leetle  Cabarve 


M  sittin'  to-night  on  ma  leetle  ca- 
bane,  more  happier  dan  de  king, 
An*  ev'ry  corner  's  ringin'  out  wit' 
musique  de  ole  stove  sing 
I   hear  de  cry  of  de  winter  win',  for  de  storm- 
gate  's  open  wide 
But  I  don't  care  not'ing  for  win'  or  storm,  so 
long  I  was  safe  inside. 


Viens  'ci,  mon  chien,  put  your  head  on  dere, 

let  your  nose  res'  on  ma  knee — 
You  'member  de  tarn  we  chase  de  moose  back 

on  de  Lac  Souris 
An'   de  snow  come  down  an'  we  los'   ourse'f 

till  mornin'  is  bring  de  light, 
You   t'ink  we  got  place  to  sleep,  mon  chien, 

lak  de  place  we  got  here  to-night 

23 


24  My  Leetle  Cabane 

Onder  de  roof  of  de  leetle  cabane,  w'ere  fire 

she  's  blazin'  high 
An'  bed  I  mak'  of  de  spruce  tree  branch,  is  lie 

on  de  floor  close  by, 
O!  I  lak  de  smell  of  dat  nice  fresh  bed,  an'  I 

dream  of  de  summer  tarn 
An'    de    spot    w'ere   de   beeg    trout    jomp    so 

moche  down  by  de  lumber  dam. 


But  lissen   dat  win',  how  she  scream  outside, 

mak  me  t'ink  of  de  loup  garou, 
W'y  to-night,  mon  chien,  I   be  feelin'  glad  if 

even  de  carcajou 
Don't  ketch  hese'f  on  de  trap  I  set  to-day  on 

de  Lac  Souris 
Let  heem  wait  till  to-morrow,   an'   den   if  he 

lak,  I  geev  heem  good  chance,  sapree! 


I  see  beeg  cloud  w'en   I  'm  out  to-day,  off  on 

de  nor'-eas'  sky, 
An'    she   block  de   road,  so   de   cloud   behin', 

don't  get  a  chance  passin'  by, 
An'  I  t'ink  of  boom  on  de  grande  riviere,  w'en 

log  's  fillin'  up  de  bay, 
Wall!    sam'    as    de    boom    on    de    spring-tam 

flood,  dat  cloud  she  was  sweep  away. 


My  Lectle  Cabane  25 

Dem  log  's  very  nice  an'  quiet,  so  long  as  de 

boom  's  all  right. 
But  soon  as  de  boom  geev  way,  l'enfant!  it  's 

den  is  begin  de  fight. 
Dey  run  de  rapide,  an'  jomp  de  rock,  dey  leap 

on  de  air  an'  dive, 
Can  hear  dem  roar  from  de  reever  shore,  jus' 

lak  dey  was  all  alive. 


An'  dat  was  de  way  wit'  de  cloud  to-day,  de 

res'  of  dem  push  aside, 
For  dey  're  comin'   fas'  from  de  cole  nor'-eas' 

an'  away  t'roo  de  sky  dey  ride 
Shakin'   de   snow  as  along   dey   go,  lak    grain 

from  de  farmer's  han' 
Till  to-morrow  you  can't  see  not'ing  at  all,  but 

smoke  of  de  leetle  cabane. 


I  'm  glad  we  don't  got   no  chimley,  only  hole 

on  de  roof  up  dere, 
An'  spark  fly  off  on  w'ole  of  de  worl',  so  dere  \s 

no  use  gettin'  scare, 
Mus'  get  more  log!  an'  it  's  lucky  too,  de  wood 

pile  is  stannin'  near 
So  blow  away  storm,   for    harder  you  go,   de 

warmer  she  's  comin'  here— 


26  My  Leetle  Cabane 

I  wonder  how  dey  get  on,  mon  chien,  off  on  de 

great  beeg  town, 
Were  house  is  so    high,   near   touch  de  sky, 

mus'  be  danger  of  fallin'  down. 
An'  worser  too  on  de  night  lak  dis,  ketchin' 

dat  terrible  win', 
O!  leetle  small  place  lak  de  ole  cabane  was  de 

right  place  for  stayin'  in. 


I   s'pose    dey    got    plaintee    bodder  too,  dem 

feller  dat  's  be  riche  man, 
For  dey  're  never  knowin'  w'en  t'ief  may  come 

an'  steal  all  de  t'ing  he  can 
An'  de  monee  was  kip  dem  busy  too,  watchin' 

it  night  an'  day, 
Dunno  but  we  're  better  off  here,  mon  chien, 

wit'  beeg  city  far  away. 


For  I  look  on  de  corner  over  dere,  an'  see  it 

ma  birch  canoe, 
I  look  on  de  wall  w'ere  ma  rifle  hang  along  wit' 

de  good  snowshoe, 
An'  ev'ry  t'ing  else  on  de  worl*  I   got,  safe  on 

dis  place  near  me. 
An'  here  you  are  too,  ma  brave  ole  dog,  wit' 

your  nose  up  agen  ma  knee. 


My  Leetle  Cabane  2 


/ 


An'    here   we  be  stay  t'roo   de   summer   day, 

w'en  ev'ry  t'ing  's  warm  an'  bright 
On   winter  too  w'en  de  stormy  win'   blow  lak 

she  blow  to-night 
Let  dem  stay  on  de  city,  on  great  beeg  house, 

dem  feller  dat  's  be  riche  man 
For  we're  happy  an'  satisfy  here,  mon  chien, 

on  our  own  leetle  small  cabane. 


Bateese  the  '   $k'  Lucky  Man 


i 


HE  'S  alway  ketchin'  dore,  an'  he  's  alway 
ketchin'  trout 
On  de  place  w'ere  no  wan  else  can  ketch  at  all 
He  's  alway  ketchin'  baibotte,  dat  's  w'at  you 
call  bull-pout, 
An'  he  never  miss  de  wiT  duck  on  de  fall. 

O!  de  pa'tridge  do  some  skippin'  w'en  she  see 
heem  on  de  swamp 
For  she  know   Bateese  don't  go  for  not'ing 
dere, 
An'  de  rabbit  if  he  's  comin',  wall!  you  ought 
to  see  heem  jomp.  ' 
W'y  he   want    to   climb   de  tree   he   feel   so 
scare.    /  * 


Affer  two  hour  by  de  reever  I  hear  hees  leetle 


song 


Den  I  meet  heem  all  hees  pocket  full  of  snipe, 

28 


Bateese,  the  Lucky  Man        29 

An'   me,  I   go  de  sam'  place,   an'    I    tramp  de 
w'ole  day  long 
An'  I  'm  only  shootin'  two  or  t'ree,  Ba  Cripe ! 


I   start   about   de   sun-rise,  an'  I    put   out    ma 
decoy, 
An'  I  see  Bateese  he  sneak  along  de  shore, 
An'   before  it  's  comin'  breakfas',  he  's  holler 
on  hees  boy 
For  carry  home  two  dozen  duck  or  more. 


An'  I  'm  freezin'  on  de  blin' — me — from  four 
o'clock  to  nine 
An'  ev'ry  duck  she  's  passin'  up  so  high. 
Dere  's  blue-bill  an'   butter-ball,  an'  red-head, 
de  fines'  kin 
An'  I  might  as  well  go  shootin'  on  de  sky. 


Don't  see  de  noder  feller  lak  Bateese  was  lucky 
man, 
He    can    ketch    de  smartes'   feesh    is    never 
«•     sweem, 
An'  de  bird  he  seldom  miss  dem,  let  dem  try 
de  hard  dey  can 
W'y    de    eagle    on    de    mountain    can't    fly 
away  from  heem. 


3o        Bateese,  the  Lucky  Man 

But  all  de  bird,  an'  feesh  too,  is  geev'  up  feelin' 
scare, 
An'  de  rabbit  he  can  stay  at  home  in  bed, 
For  he   feesh   an'   shoot    no   longer,  ole   Jean 
Bateese  Belair, 
'Cos  he  's  dead. 


i  ^  -^^m^mmmim^^^ 


The  Hill  of  St.  Sebastien 

1  OUGHT  to  feel  more  satisfy  an'  happy  dan 
I  be, 
For  better  husban'  dan   ma  own,  it   's  very 
hard  to  fin' 
An'  plaintee  woman   if  dey  got  such  boy  an' 
girl  as  me 
Would     never    have    no    troub'    at    all,    an' 
not'ing  on  deir  min' 
But  w'ile  dey  're  alway  wit'  me,  an'  dough   I 
love  dem  all 
I  can't  help  t'inkin'  w'en  I  watch  de  chil'ren 
out  at  play 
Of  tarn   I  'm  jus'   lak  dat  mese'f,   an'   den  de 
tear  will  fall 
For  de  hill  of  St.  Sebastien  is  very  far  away! 


It  seem  so  pleasan'  w'en  I  come  off  here  ten 
year  ago 
An'  hardes'  work  I  'm  gettin'  den,  was  never 
heavy  load, 

31 


32       The  Hill  of  St.  Sebastien 

De     roughes'     place     is    smoot'     enough,    de 
quickes'  gait  is  slow 
For  glad  I  am  to   foller  w'ere   Louis  lead  de 
road 
But  somet'ing    's    comin'   over    me,   I    feel    it 
more  an'  more 
It  's  alway  pullin'  on  de  heart,  an'   stronger 
ev'ry  day, 
An'  O!    I  long  to  see  again  de  reever  an'  de 
shore 
W'ere  de  hill  of  St.  Sebastien  is  lookin'  on 
de  bay ! 

I  use  to  t'ink  it  's  fine  t'ing  once,  to  stan'  upon 
de  door 
An'  see  de  great  beeg  medder  dere,  stretchin' 
far  an'  wide, 
An'  smell  de  pleasan'  flower  dat  grow  lak  star 
on  de  prairie  floor, 
An'  watch  de  spotted  antelope  was  feedin' 
ev'ry  side, 
How  did  we  gain  it,  man   an'  wife,  dis  Ian'  was 
no  man's  Ian'  ? 
By    rifle,   an'   harrow    an'   plow,   shovel    an' 
spade  an'  hoe 
De  blessin'  of  good  God  up  above,  an'  work  of 
our  own  strong  han' 
Till  it  stan'   on  de   middle,  our  leetle  nes', 
w'ere  de  wheat  an'  cornfier  grow. 


The  Hill  of  St.  Sebastien        33 

An'  soon  de  chil'ren  fill  de  house,  wit'  musique 
all  day  long, 
De  sam'  ma  moder  use  to  sing  on  de  cradle 
over  me, 
I   'm  almos'  sorry  it  's   be  ma  fault  dey  learn 
dem  ole  tarn  song 
Wat  good  is  it  tak'  me  off  lak  dat  back  on 
ma  own  contree  ? 
Till  de  reever  once  more  I  see  again,  an'  lissen 
it's  current  flow 
An'    dere  's    Hercule  de   ferry   man   comin' 
across  de  bay ! 
Wat  's  use  of  foolin'  me  lak  dat  ?  for  surely  I 
mus'  know 
De  hill  of  St.  Sebastien  is  very  far  away ! 


Wen     Louis    ketch    me    dat    summer    night 
watchin'  de  sky  above, 
Seein'  de  mountain   an'  de  lake,  wit'   small 
boat  sailin'  roun' 
He  kiss  me  an'  say — "  Toinette,    I  'm  glad  dis 
prairie  Ian'  you  love 
For  travel  de  far   you  can,   ma  belle,   it    's 
fines'  on  top  de  groun' !  " 
Jus'    w'en    I    'm    lookin'   dat  beeg   cloud  too, 
standin'  dere  lak  a  wall! 
Sam'  as  de  hill  I  know  so  well,  home  on  ma 
own  contree, 


34       The  Hill  of  St.  Sebastien 

Good   job   I    was  cryin'   quiet  den,  an'   Louis 
can't  hear  at  all 
But  I  kiss  de  poor  feller  an'  laugh,  an'  never 
say  not'ing — me. 

Wat  can  you  do  wit'  man  lak  dat,  an'  w'y  am 
I  bodder  so  ? 
De  firse  t'ing  he  might  fin'  it  out,  den  hees 
heart  will  feel  it  sore 
An'  if  he  say  "  Come  home  Toinette,"   I  'm 
sure  I  mus'  answer  "  No," 
For  if  I  'm  seein'  dat  place  again,  I   never 
return  no  more ! 
So  let  de  heart  break — I   don't  care,  I   won't 
say  not'ing — me — 
I  '11  mak'  dat  promise  on  mese'f,  an'  kip  it 
night  an'  day 
But  O!    Mon  Dieu !  how  glad,  how  glad,  an' 
happy  I  could  be 
If   de  hill   of   St.  Sebastien  was   not   so    far 
away ! 


MARIE  LOUISE. 

DIS  was  de  story  of  boy  an'  girl 
Dat  's  love  each  oder  above  de  worl' 
But  it  's  not  easy  job  for  mak'  l'amour 
Wen  de  girl  she  's  riche  an'  de  boy  he  's  poor 
All  de  sam'  he  don't  worry  an'  she  don't  cry, 
But  wait  for  good  chances  come  bimeby. 


Young  Marie  Louise  Hurtubuise 
Was  leev  wit'  her  moder  la  veuve  Denise 
On  fines'  house  on  de  w'ole  chemin 
From  Caribou  reever  to  St.  Germain 
For  ole  woman  's  boss  on  de  grande  moulin. 

35 


36  Marie  Louise 

Were  dere  's  nice  beeg  dam,  water  all  de  tarn 
An'  season  t'roo  runnin'  jus'  de  sam' 
Wit'  good  leetle  creek  comin'  off  de  hill 
Was  helpin'  de  reever  for  work  de  mill 
So  de  grande  moulin  she  is  never  still. 

No  wonder  Denise  she  was  hard  to  please 
Wen  de  boy  come  sparkin'  Marie  Louise 
For  affer  de  foreman  Bazile  is  pay 
De  mill  she  's  bringin'  t'ree  dollar  a  day 
An'  for  makin'  de  monee,  dat  's  easy  way. 

An'  de  girl  Marie,  O!  she  's  tres  jolie, 
Jompin'  aroun  lak  de  summer  bee 
She  's  never  short  plaintee  t'ing  to  do 
An'  mebbe  she  ketch  leetle  honey  too, 
'Cos  she  's  jus'  as  sweet  as  de  morning  dew. 

An'  we'n  she  was  dress  on  her  Sunday  bes' 
An'  walk  wit'  her  moder  on  seconde  messe 
Dere  's  not'ing  is  bring  de  young  man  so  fas' 
An'  dey  stan'  on  door  of  church  en  masse 
So  res'  of  de  peop'  dey  can  hardly  pass. 

An'  she  know  musique,  'cos  on  Chris'mas  week 
Wen  organ  man  on  de  church  is  sick 
(S'pose  he  got  de  grippe)  dat  girl  she  play 
Lak  college  professor,  de  pries'  is  say 
Till  de  place  it  was  crowd  nearly  ev'ry  day. 


Marie  Louise  37 

Ole  Cure  Belair  of  St.  Pollinaire, 
Dat  's  parish  ten  mile  noder  side  riviere, 
If  he  's  not  gettin'  mad,  it  was  funny  ting 
Wen  hees  young  man  fly  lak  bird  on  de  wing 
Wit'  nobody  lef  behin'  to  sing. 

An'  nex'  t'ing  dey  know  it  \s  comin'  so 
Dat  mos'  of  de  girl  she  got  no  beau, 
An'  of  course  dat  's  makin'  de  jealousie 
For  w'en  de  young  feller  he  see  Marie 
He  see  not'ing  else  on  hees  eye,  sapree! 

Mus'  be  somet'ing  done  sure  as  de  gun, 

It  's  all  very  well  for  de  boy  have  fun 

But  dere  's  noder  t'ing  too,  must  n't  be  forget 

Dere  's  two  fine  parish  dat  's  all  upset 

An'  mebbe  de  troub'  is  n't  over  yet. 

So  ev'ry  wan  say  de  only  way 
Is  gettin'  young  Marie  Louise  mariee, 
Den  dey  have  beeg  meetin'  on  magasin, 
Were  he  sit  on  de  chair  Aleck  Sanschagrin, 
An'    dey     point    heem   for    go   on    de    grande 
moulin. 


But  w'en  Aleck  come  dere  for  arrange  affaire, 
Ole  Madame  Denise  she  was  mak'  heem  scare 


38  Marie  Louise 

For  jus'  on  de  minute  she  see  hees  face 
She  know  right  away  all  about  de  case 
An'  she  tole  Bazile  t'row  heem  off  de  place. 

Now  de  young  Bazile  he  was  t'ink  good  deal 
Of  Marie  Louise  an'  he  's  ready  for  keel 
Any  feller  come  foolin'  aroun'  de  door 
So  he  kick  dat  man  till  he  \s  feelin'  sore, 
An'  Aleck  he  never  go  back  no  more. 

If  it  's  true  w'at  dey  say,  Joe  Boulanger 
Was  crazy  to  fight  Irish  man  wan  day 
Wen  he  steal  all  de  pork  on  hees  dinner  can, 
Den  it  is  n't  so  very  hard  onderstan' 
Bazile  Latour  mus'  be  darn  smart  man. 

For  nobody  know  de  poor  feller  Joe 
Wen  he  's  come  from  de  grande  moulin  below 
'Cept  hees  moder,  dat  's  tole  heem  mak'  prom- 
ise sure 
Kip  off  on  de  mill,  an'  Bazile  Latour, 
(But  it  's  long  before  doctor  can  mak'  heem 
cure). 

Den  de  ole  Denise  she  was  very  please, 
An'  nex'  day  spik  wit*  Marie  Louise, 
Ma  girl,  I  got  de  right  man  for  you 
If  you  can  only  jus'  love  heem  true, 
Bazile  dat  young  feller,  I  t'ink  he  '11  do." 


Marie  Louise  39 

"  Wall!   Moder  he  's  poor,  Bazile  Latour, 

But  if  you  t'ink  you  will  lak  heem  sure 

I  '11  try  an'  feex  it  mese'f  some  day 

For   you   've  been    de    good    moder   wit'    me 

alway  " 
An'  dat  's  w'at  Marie  Louise  she  say. 

So  it  's  comin'  right  affer  all  de  fight, 
An'  de  parish  don't  see  de  more  finer  sight 
Dan  w'en  dey  get  marry  on  St.  Germain 
W'y  de  buggy  she  's  pilin'  de  w'ole  chemin 
All  de  way  from  de  church  to  de  grande  moulin. 


The  Old  House  and  the  New 

IS  it  only  twelve  mont'  I  play  de  fool, 
You  're  sure  it  's  correc',  ma  dear  ? 
I  'm  glad  for  hearin'  you  spik  dat  way 

For  I  t'ink  it  was  twenty  year, 
Since  leffin'  de  leetle  ole  house  below, 

I  mak'  wit'  ma  own  two  han' 
For  go  on  dat  fine  beeg  place,  up  dere — 
Mon  Dieu !  I  'm  de  crazy  man! 


You  'member  we  're  not  very  riche,  cherie, 

Dat  tarn  we  're  beginnin'  life! 
Mese'f  I  'm  twenty,  an'  you  eighteen 

Wen  I  'm  bringin'  you  home  ma  wife, 

40 


The  Old  House  and  the  New  41 

Many  de  worry  an'  troub'  we  got 

An'  some  of  dem  was  n't  small, 
But  not  very  long  dey  bodder  us 

For  we  work  an'  forget  dem  all. 


An'  you  was  de  savin'  woman  too, 

Dere  's  nobody  beat  you  dere! 
An'  I  laugh  w'en  I  t'ink  of  de  tarn  you  go 

Over  on  Trois  Rivieres 
For  pay  in'  de  bank — you  know  how  moche 

We  're  owin'  for  dat  new  place 
Wat  was  he  sayin'  de  nice  young  man 

Smilin'  upon  hees  face 

W'en  he  got  dat  monee  was  all  pure  gole 

Come  down  on  your  familee 
For  honder  year  an'  mebbe  more  ? 
Ma-dame  you  're  excusin'  me, 
But  w'ere  was  you  gettin'  dis  nice  gole  coin 

Of  Louis  Ouatorze,  hees  tarn 
Wit'  hees  face  on  back  of  dem  ev'ry  wan  ? 

For  dey  're  purty  scase  now,  Ma-dam  ?  ' 


An'  you  say  "  Dat  's  not'ing  at  all  M'sieu' 

Ma  familee  get  dem  t'ing, 
I  suppose  it  's  very  long  tarn  ago, 

W'en  Louis  Quatorze  is  King, 


42   The  Old  House  and  the  New 

An'  I  'm  sorry  poor  feller  he  's  comin'  dead 

An'  not  leevin'  here  to-day 
'Cos  man  should  be  good  on  hees  frien',  M'sieu' 

Wen  de  monee  he  mak'  dat  way." 


Yass,  ev'ry  wan  know  we  're  workin'  hard 

An'  savin'  too  all  dem  year, 
But  nobody  see  us  starve  ourse'f 

Dere  's  plaintee  to  eat,  don't  fear — 
Bimeby  our  chil'ren  dey  're  growin'  up 

So  we  're  doin'  de  bes'  we  can 
Settle  dem  off  on  de  firse  good  chance 

An'  geevin'  dem  leetle  Ian'. 


An'  den  de  troub'  is  begin  to  show 

Wen  our  daughter  poor  Caroline 
She  marry  dat  lawyer  on  Trois  Rivieres 

De  beeges'  fool  never  seen ! 
Alway  come  home  ev'ry  summer  sure 

Bringin'  her  familee, 
All  right  for  de  chil'ren,  I  don't  min'  dem; 

But  de  husban' !  sapree  maudit ! 

I  wish  I  was  close  ma  ear  right  off 
Wen  he  talk  of  our  leetle  house 

Dough  I  know  w'en  familee's  comin'  home 
Dere  is  n't  moche  room  for  a  mouse, 


The  Old  House  and  the  New  43 

He  say  "  Riche  man  lak  youse'f  can't  leev' 

On  shaintee  lak  dis  below, 
Wen  t'ousan'  dollar  will  buil'  fin'  place 

Up  on  de  hill  en  haut." 


An'  he  talk  about  gallerie  all  aroun' 

Were  we  sit  on  de  summer  night 
Watchin'  de  star  on  de  sky  above 

Wile  de  moon  she  was  shinin'  bright, 
Could  plant  some  apple-tree  dere,  also, 

An'  flower,  an'  I  dunno  w'at, 
An'  w'en  de  sun  he  's  begin  to  rise 

Look  at  de  view  we  got ! 


Den  he  bring  'noder  feller  from  Trois  Rivieres 

An'  show  w'at  he  call  de  plan 
For  makin'  dem  house  on  de  w'ole  contree — 

Mon  Dieu !  how  I  hate  dat  man ! 
'Cos  he  's  talkin'  away  nearly  all  de  tarn 

Lak  trotter  upon  de  race — - 
Wall!  affer  a  w'ile  we  mak'  our  min' 

For  havin'  dat  nice  new  place. 

So  dey  go  ahead,  an'  we  let  dem  go, 

But  stuff  dey  was  t'rovv  away; 
I  'm  watchin'  for  dat,  an'  I  save  mese'f 

Mebbe  twenty-five  cent  a  day, 


44   The  Old  House  and  the  New 

For  you  're  surely  cheat  if  you  don't  tak'  care 

Very  offen  we  fin'  dat  's  true, 
An'  affer  de  house  she  was  finish  up, 

We  're  geevin'  it  nam'  Bellevue. 


O!  yass,  I  know  we  enjoy  ourse'f 

Wen  our  frien'  dey  was  comin'  roun' 
An'  say  "  Dat  's  very  fine  place  you  got; 

Dere  's  not'ing  upon  de  town, 
Or  anyw'ere  else  for  honder  mile 

Dis  house  Bellevue  can  touch, 
An'  den  let  de  horse  eat  de  garden  fence 

Non !  we  don't  enjoy  dat  so  moche. 

An'  of  course  we  can't  say  not'ing  at  all 

For  it  's  not  correc'  t'ing  you  know — 
But  "  Never  min'  dat,  an'  please  come  again, 

I  'm  sorry  you  got  to  go." 
Bapteme!   w'en  I  'm  seein'  beeg  feller  bus' 

Our  two  dollar  easy  chair  — 
Can't  help  it  at  all,  I  got  to  go 

Down  on  de  cellar  an'  swear! 


An'  w'ere  did  we  leev'  on  dat  belle  maison  ? 

Wan  room  an'  de  kitchen,  dat  's  all 
An'  plaintee  too  for  de  man  an'  wife! 

An'  you  'member  de  tarn  I  fall 


The  Old  House  and  the  New  45 

Off  on  de  gallerie  wan  dark  night, 

I  los'  mese'f  tryin'  fin' 
De  winder  dere  on  de  grande  parloir, 

For  closin'  it  up  de  blin'  ? 

An'  all  de  tarn  de  poor  leetle  house 

Is  down  on  de  road  below, 
I  t'ink  she  was  jealous  dat  fine  new  place 

Up  on  de  hill  en  haut, 
For  O!  she  look  lonesome  by  herse'f 

De  winder  all  broke  an'  gone — 
No  smoke  on  de  chimley  comin'  out 

No  frien'  stannin'  dere — not  wan. 


You  'member  too,w'en  de  fever  come 

An'  ketch  us  wan  winter  day  ? 
Wat  he  call  de  shaintee,  our  son-in-law, 

Dat  's  w'ere  dey  pass  away 
Xavier,  Zoe,  an'  Euchariste 

Our  chil'ren  wan,  two,  t'ree — 
I  offen  t'ink  of  de  room  dey  die, 

An'  I  can't  help  cryin' — me. 


So  we  '11  go  on  de  ole  house  once  again, 
Long  enough  we  been  fool  lak  dis 

Never  min'  w'at  dey  say  bimeby,  ma  chere 
But  geev  me  de  leetle  kiss, 


46   The  Old  House  and  the  New 

Let  dem  stay  on  dat  fine  new  place  up  dere 

Our  daughter  an'  son-in-law 
For  to-morrow  soon  as  de  sun  will  rise 

We  're  goin'  back  home — Hooraw! 


--K-.J 


;^to 


THE   CANADIAN    COUNTRY    DOCTOR. 


IS'POSE  mos'  ev'ry  body  t'ink  hees  job   's 
about  de  hardes' 
From  de  boss  man  on  de  Gouvernement  to 
poor  man  on  de  town 
From  de  cure  to  de  lawyer,  an'  de  farmer  to 
de  school  boy 
An'   all  de  noder   feller  was   mak'   de  worl' 
go  roun'. 


But  dere  's  wan  man  got  hees  han'  full  t'roo 
ev'ry  kin'  of  wedder 
An'   he  's  never  sure  of   not'ing   but    work 
an'  work  away — 
Dat  's  de  man  dey  call  de  doctor,   w'en  you 
ketch  heem  on  de  contree 
An'  he  's  only  man  I  know-me,  don't  got 
no  holiday. 

47 


48  The  Country  Doctor 

If  you  're  comin'  off  de  city  spen'  de  summer- 


tarn  among  us 


An'  you   walk  out  on  de  morning  w'en    de 

leetle  bird  is  sing 
Mebbe  den  you  see  de  doctor  w'en  he  's  passin 

wit'  hees  buggy 
An'  you  t'ink  "  Wall!  contree  doctor  mus' 

be  very  pleasan'  t'ing 


'  Drivin'  dat  way  all  de  summer  up  an'  down 
along  de  reever 
Were  de  nice  cool  win'  is  blowin'  among  de 
maple  tree 
Den  w'en  he  's  mak'  hees  visit,  comin'  home 
before  de  night  tarn 
For  pass  de  quiet  evening  wit'  hees  wife  an' 
familee." 


An'  w'en  off  across  de  mountain,  some  wan  's 
sick  an'  want  de  doctor 
"  Mus'  be  fine  trip  crossin'  over  for  watch 
de  sun  go  down 
Makin'  all  dem  purty  color  lak   w'at  you  call 
de  rainbow," 
Dat  's  way  de  peop'  is  talkin'  was  leevin'  on 
de  town. 


The  Country  Doctor  49 

But  it  is  n't  alway  summer  on  de  contree,  an' 
de  doctor 
He  could  tole  you  many  story  of  de  storm 
dat  he  's  been  in 
How  hees  coonskin  coat  come  handy,  w'en  de 
win'  blow  off  de  reever 
For    if    she  's   sam'   ole    reever,    she    's    not 
alway  sam'  old  win'. 


An'  de  mountain  dat  's  so  quiet  w'en  de  w'ite 
cloud  go  a-sailin' 
All  about  her  on  de  summer  w'ere  de  sheep 
is  feedin'  high 
You  should  see  her  on  December  w'en  de  snow 
is  pilin'  roun'  her 
An'  all  de  win'  of  winter  come  tearin'  t'roo 
de  sky. 


0!  le  bon  Dieu  help  de  doctor  w'en  de  mes- 
sage come  to  call  heem 
From  hees  warm  bed   on  de   night-tam   for 
visit  some  poor  man 
Lyin'  sick  across  de  hill  side  on  noder  side  de 
reever 
An'  he  hear  de  mountain  roarin'  lak  de  beeg 
Shawinigan. 


5©  The  Country  Doctor 

Ah!  well  lie   know   de  warning   but    he  can't 
stay  till  de  morning 
So  he  's  hitchin'  up  hees  leetle  horse  an'  put 
heem  on  burleau 
Den  w'en  he  's  feex  de  buffalo,  an'  wissle  to 
hees  pony 
Away  t'roo  storm  an'  hurricane  de  contree 
doctor  go. 


O!  de  small  Canadian  pony!  dat  's  de  horse 
can  walk  de  snowdreef. 
Dat   's  de  horse  can  fin'  de  road  too  he  's 
never  been  before 
Kip   your  heart   up   leetle    feller,   for  dere   's 
many  mile  before  you 
An'  it  's  purty  hard  job  tellin'  w'en  you  see 
your  stable  door. 


Yass!  de  doctor  he  can  tole  you,  if  he  have  de 
tarn  for  talkin' 
All  about  de  bird  was  singin'  before  de  sum- 
mer lef 
For  he  's  got  dem  on  hees  bureau  an'  he  's  doin' 
it  hese'f  too 
An'  de  las'  tarn  I  was  dere,  me,  I  see  dem  all 
mese'f. 


The  Country  Doctor  51 

But  about  de  way  he  travel  t'roo  de  stormy 
night  of  winter 
Wen  de  rain  come  on  de  spring  flood,  an' 
de  bridge  is  wash  away 
All  de  hard  work,  all  de  danger  dat  was  offen 
hang  aroun'  heem 
Dat  's  de  tarn  our  contree  doctor  don't  have 
very  moche  to  say. 


For  it  's  purty  ole,  ole  story,  an'  he  alway  have 
it  wit'  heem 
Ever  since  he  come  among  us  on  parish  Saint 
Mathieu 
An'    no    doubt    he    's    feelin'    mebbe    jus'    de 
sam'  as  noder  feller 
So  he  rader  do  hees  talkin'  about  somet'ing 
dat  was  new. 


Mon  Frere  Camille 


M 


ON  frere  Camille  he  was  firse  class  blood 
Wen  he  come  off  de  State  las'  fall, 
VVearin'  hees  boot  a  la  mode  box  toe 
An*  diamon'  pin  on  hees  shirt  also 
Sam'  as  dem  feller  on  Chi-caw-go; 
But  now  he  's  no  blood  at  all, 

Camille,  mon  frere. 


Wat     's    makin'    dat    change    on    mon    frere 
Camille  ? 
Wall1!  lissen  for  minute  or  two, 
An'  I  '11  try  feex  it  up  on  de  leetle  song 
Dat   's  geevin'   some   chance   kin'    o'    help    it 

along 
So  wedder  I  'm  right  or  wedder  I  'm  wrong 
You   '11    know    all    about   heem    w'en    I    get 
t'roo, 

Mon  frere  Camille. 

52 


Mon  Frere  Camille  *a 


j 


He  never  sen'  letter  for  t'orteen  year 
So  of  course  he  mus'  be  all  right 

Till  telegraph  's  comin'  from  Kan-Ka-Kee 
I  'm  leffin'  dis  place  on  de  half  pas'  t'ree 

Wat  you  want  to  bring  is  de  bes'  buggee 
An'   double  team  sure  for  me  t'orsday  night 

Ton  frere  Camille." 


I  wish  you  be  dere  w'en  Camille  arrive 

I  bet  you  will  say  "  Wat  's  dat  ?  " 
For  he  's  got  leetle  cap  very  lak  tuque  bleu 
Ole  habitant  's  wearin'  in  bed,  dat  's  true, 
An'  w'at  do  you  t'ink  he  carry  too  ? 

Geev  it  up  ?     Wall !  small  valise  wit'  de  fine 
plug  hat. 

Mon  frere  Camille. 


Very  strange."    I  know  you  will  say  right  off, 
For  dere  's  not'ing  wrong  wit'  hees  clothes, 
An'  he  put  on  style  all  de  bes'  he  can 
Wit'  diamon'  shinin'  across  hees  han' 
An'  de  way  he  's  talkin'  lak  Yankee  man 
Mus'  be  purty  hard  on  hees  nose, 

Mon  frere  Camille. 


But  he  'splain  all  dat  about  funny  cap, 
An'  tole  us  de  reason  w'y, 


54  Mon  Frere  Camilie 

It  seem  no  feller  can  travel  far, 
An'  specially  too  on  de  Pullman  car, 
'Less  dey  wear  leetle  cap  only  cos'  dollarre, 
Dat  's  true  if  he  never  die, 

Mon  frere  Camilie. 

Don't  look  very  strong  dem  fancy  boot 

But  he  's  'splain  all  dat  also 
He  say  paten'  ledder  she  's  nice  an'  gay 
You  don't  need  to  polish  dem  ev'ry  day, 
Besides  he  's  too  busy  for  dat  alway, 

Wen  he  's  leevin'  on  Chi-caw-go, 

Mon  frere  Camilie. 

But  de  State  she  was  n't  de  only  place 

He  visit  all  up  an'  down, 
For  he  's  goin'  Cu-baw  an'  de  Mex-i-co, 
Were  he  's  killin'  two  honder  dem  wil'  taureau, 
Wat  you  call  de  bull:  on  de  circus  show, 

O!  if  you  believe  heem  he  travel  roun'. 

Mon  frere  Camilie. 

So  of  course  w'en  ma  broder  was  gettin'  home 

All  the  peop'  on  de  parish  come 
Every  night  on  de  parlor  for  hear  heem  tell 
How  he  foller  de  brave  Generale  Roosvel' 
W'en  rough  rider  feller  dey  fight  lak  hell 
An'    he  walk   on   de   front    wit'    great    beeg 
drum, 

Mon  frere  Camilie. 


Mon  Frere  Camille  55 

An'  how  is  he  gainin'  dat  diamon'  ring  ? 

Way  off  on  de  Mex-i-co 
Were  he  's  pilin'  de  bull  wan  summer  day- 
Till  it  's  not  easy  haulin'  dem  all  away, 
An'    de    lady    dey    're    t'rowin'     heem    large 
bouquet 
For  dey  lak  de  style  he  was  keel  taureau, 

Mon  frere  Camille. 

Wall!  he  talk  dat  way  all  de  winter  t'roo, 

An'  hees  frien'  dey  was  tryin'  fin' 
Some  bull  on  de  county  dat  's  wil'  enough 
For  mon  frere  Camille,  but  it  's  purty  tough 
'Cos  de  farmer  's  not  raisin'  such  fightin'  stuff 
An'  he  don't  want  not'ing  but  mos'  worse 
kin' 

Mon  frere  Camille. 

Dat  's  not  pleasan'  t'ing  mebbe  los'  hees  trade, 

If  we  don't  hurry  up,  for  sure, 
I  s'pose  you  t'ink  I  was  goin'  it  strong  ? 
Never  min',  somet'ing  happen  'fore  very  long 
It  '11  all  come  out  on  dis  leetle  song 

W'en    he    pass    on    de    house    of    Ma-dame 
Latour 

Camille,  mon  frere. 

We  're  makin'  pique-nique  on  Denise  Latour 
For  helpin'  put  in  de  hay 


56  Mon  Frere  Camille 

Too  bad  she  's  de  moder  large  familee 
An'  los'  de  bes'  husban'  she  never  see 
Wen  he  drown  on  de  reever,  poor  Jeremie, 
So  he  come  wit'  de  res'  of  de  gang  dat  day, 

Camille,  mon  frere. 

An'  affer  de  hay  it  was  put  away 

Don't  tak'  very  long  at  all, 
De  boy  an'  de  girl  she  was  lookin'  'roun' 
For  havin'  more  fun  'fore  dey  lef  de  groun' 
An'  dey  see  leetle  bull,  mebbe  t'ree  honder 
poun' 
An'  nex'  t'ing  I  hear  dem  call 

Mon  frere  Camille. 

So  nice  leetle  feller  I  never  see 

Dat  bull  of  Ma-dame  Latour 
Wit'  curly  hair  on  de  front  hees  head 
An'  quiet  ?  jus'  sam'  he  was  almos'  dead 
An'  fat  ?  wall!  de  chil'ren  dey  see  heem  fed 

So  he  's  not  goin'  keel  heem  I  'm  very  sure, 

Mon  frere  Camille. 

But  de  girl  kip  teasin'  an'  ole  Ma-dame 

She  say,  "  You  can  go  ahead 
He  cos'  me  four  dollarre  six  mont'  ago 
So  if  anyt'ing  happen  ma  small  taureau, 
Who  's  pay  me  dat  monee  I  lak  to  know  ?  ' 
An'    he  answer,     '  Dat    's   me   w'en    I   keel 
heem  dead" 

Mon  frere  Camille. 


Mon  Frcre  Camille  57 

Den  he  feex  beeg  knife  on  de  twelve  foot  pole, 

So  de  chil'ren  commence  to  cry 
An'  he  jomp  on  de  fence,  an'  yell,  "  Hooraw" 
An'  shout  on  de  leetle  French  bull,  "  Dis  done! 
Ain't  you  scare  w'en  you  see  feller  from  Cu- 
baw  ?  " 
An'  he  show  heem  hees  red  necktie, 

Mon  frere  Camille. 

L'  petit  taureau  w'en  he  see  dat  tie 

He  holler  for  half  a  mile 
Den  he  jomp  on  de  leg  an'  he  raise  de  row 
Ba  Golly!     I  'm  sure  I  can  see  heem  now. 
An'   dey  run  w'en  dey  hear  heem,   de    noder 
cow 
Den  he  say,  "  Dat  bull  must  be  surely  wil' 

Mon  frere  Camille. 

But  de  bull  don't  care  w'at  he  say  at  all, 

For  he  's  watchin'  dat  red  necktie 
An'  w'en  ma  broder  he  push  de  pole 
I'm  sure  it's  makin'  some  purty  large  hole, 
If  de  bull  be  dere,  but  ma  blood  run  col' 
For  de  nex'  t'ing  I  hear  heem  cry, 

Camille,  mon  frere. 

No  wonder  he  cry,  for  dat  sapree  bull 
He  's  yell  leetle  bit  some  more, 


58  Mon  Frere  Camille 

Den  he  ketch  ma  broder  dat  small  taureau 
Only  cos'  four  dollarre  six  mont'  ago 
An'   he   's  t'rowin'  heem   up   from    de  groun' 
below 
Wan  tarn,  two  tarn,  till  he  's  feelin'  sore, 

Camille,  mon  frere. 

An'  w'en  ma  broder  's  come  down  agen 

I  s'pose  he  mus'  change  hees  min' 
An'  mebbe  t'ink  if  it  's  all  de  sam' 
He  '11  keel  dat  bull  w'en  he  get  more  tarn 
For  dere  he  was  runnin'  wit'  ole  Ma-dame 
De  chil'ren,  de  bull,  an'  de  cow  behin' 

Camille,  mon  frere. 

So  dat  's  de  reason  he  's  firse  ciass  blood 
W'en  he  come  off  de  State  las'  fall 

Wearin'  hees  boot  a  la  mode  box  toe 

An'  diamon'  pin  on  hees  shirt  also 

Sam'  as  dem  feller  on  Chi-caw-go 
But  now  he  's  no  blood  at  all, 

Camille,  mon  frere. 


\ 


The  Habitant's  Summer 


OW.HO  can   blame  de  winter,  never  min' 
,     de  hard  he  's  blow  in* 
'Cos  w'en  de   tarn   is  comin'  for  passin'   on 
hees  roun' 
De  firse  t'ing  he  was  doin'  is  start   de  sky  a 
snowin' 
An'  mak'  de  nice  w'ite  blanket,  for  cover  up 
de  groun'. 

An'  de  groun'  she  go    a'sleepin'  t'roo  all  de 
stormy  season, 
Restin'  from  her  work  las'  summer,  till  she  's 
waken  by  de  rain 
Dat    le  bon  Dieu  sen'  some  morning,  an'  of 
course  dat  's  be  de  reason 
Ev'ry  year  de   groun'  she  's  lookin'   jus'   as 
fresh  an'  young  again. 

59 


60        The  Habitant's  Summer 

Den  you  geev  her  leetle  sunshine,  w'en  de  snow 
go  off  an'  leave  her 
Let  de  sout'  win'  blow  upon  her,  an'  you  see 
beeg  changes  now 
Wit'  de  steam  arisin'  from  her  jus'  de  sam'  she 
got  de  fever, 
An'   not   many  day   is  passin'   w'en   she   's 
ready  for  de  plow. 

We  don't  bodder  wit'  no  spring-tam  w'ere  de 
rain  she  's  alway  fallin,' 
Two,  free  mont',  or  mebbe  longer,   on  de 
place  beyon'  de  sea, 
W'ere  some  bird  he  's  nam'  de  cuckoo,  spen' 
de  mos'  hees  tarn  a-callin' 
But  for  fear  he  wet  hees  fedder,  hide  away 
upon  de  tree. 

On   de  swamp   beside    de    reever,  mebbe   jus' 
about  de  fiy-tam 
Were  it  's  very  hard  to  see  heem,  we  hear 
de  wo-wa-raw, 
Dat    's    w'at    you    call    de    bull-frog,    singin' 
'  more  rum,"  all  de  night-tam. 
He  's  only  kin'  of   cuckoo  we  got  on  Cana- 
daw. 

No,  we  have  n't  got  dat  feller,  but  we  got  some 
bird  can  beat  heem, 
An'  we  hear  dem,  an'  we  see  dem,  jus'  so 
soon  de  winter  go, 


The  Habitant's  Summer        61 

So  never  min'  de  cuckoo  for  we  're  not  afraid 
to  meet  heem, 
W'enever  he  was  ready,  wit'  our  own  petits 
oiseaux. 

An'   dey  almos'   come  togeder,  lak   de  spring 
an'  summer  wedder, 
Blue-bird    wan    day,   pie-blanche    nex'  day, 
geevin'  out  deir  leetle  note, 
Affer  dat  we  see  de  robin,  an'  de  gouglou  on 
de  medder, 
Den  le  roi,  de  red  bird  's  comin',  dressim  on 
hees  sojer  coat. 

Wen  de  grosbec  on  de  pine  tree,  wak'    you 
early  wit'  hees  singin', 
Wen  you  lissen  to  de  pa'tridge  a-beatin'  on 
hees  drum, 
Wen    de    w'ole    place    roun'   about    you    wit' 
musique  is  a-ringin', 
Den  you  know  de    winter  's    over,    an'    de 
summer  day  is  come. 

See  de  apple  blossom  showin',  see  de  clover 
how  it  's  growin' 
Watch  de  trout,  an'  way  dey  're  playin'  on 
de  reever  down  below, 
Ah  !  de  cunning  leetle  feller,  easy  see  how  well 
dey  're  knowin' 
We  're  too  busy  now  for  ketch  dem  an'  dat  's 
w'y  dey  're  jompin'  so. 


62        The  Habitant's  Summer 

For  de  mos'  fine  summer  season  don't  las'  too 
long,  an'  we  know  it, 
So  we  're  workin'  ev'rybody,  w'ile  de  sun  is 
warm  ah'  clear, 
Dat  's  de  tarn  for  plant  de  barley,  an'  de  injun 
corn  we  sow  it, 
Wen  de  leaf  upon  de  maple  's  jus'  de  size 
of  squirrel's  ear. 

'Noder  job  is  feexin'  fences,  if  we  don't  be  lak 
de  las'  year, 
Wen  de  Durham  bull  he  's  pullin'  nearly  all 
de  fence  away, 
An'  dat  sapree  champion  taureau  let  de  cattle 
out  de  pasture 
So  dey  're  playin'  on  de  devil  wit'  de  oat 
an'  wit'  de  hay. 

Yass,  de  farmer    's  offen  worry,    an'   it  some- 
tarn   mak'  heem  snappy, 
For  no  sooner  wan  job  's  finish,  dan  he  got 
two  t'ousan'  more, 
But  he  's  glad  for  see  de  summer,  w'en  all  de 
worl'  she  's  happy, 
An'  ev'ryt'ing  aroun'  heem  was  leevin'  out 
o'  door. 

Now  de  ole  sheep  's  takin'  young  wan  up  de 
hillside,  an'  dey  feed  dem 
Were  de  nice  short  grass  is  growin'  sweeter 
dan  it  grow  below, 


The  Habitant's  Summer        63 


o 


Ev'ry    morning    off    dey    're    goin'    an'    it    's 
pleasan'  t'ing  to  see  dem 
Lookin'  jus'  lak  leetle  snow-ball  all  along  de 


green  coteau. 

Dere   's  de  hen  too,  wit'   her  chicken,  O  how 
moche  dey  mak'  her  bodder 
Watchin'  dem  mos'  ev'ry  minute,  fearin'  dey 
was  go  astray 
But   w'en    mountain   hawk    he   's   comin'    den 
how  quick  dey  fin'  de  moder 
An'   get  onderneat'  her   fedder  till  de  dan- 
ger 's  pass  away. 

An'   jus'  see  de  turkey  gobbler,  an'  lissen  to 
heem  talkin' 
No  wonder  he  's  half  crazee,  an'  spikin'  out 
so  loud, 
W'en  you  meet  heem  on  de  roadside  wit'  hees 
wife  an'  chil'ren  walkin', 
It  \s  kipin'  heem  so  busy  lookin'  affer  such 
a  crowd. 

Dat  's  about  de  way  we  're  leevin',   dat  's  a 
few  t'ing  we  're  seein', 
W'en  de  nice  warm  summer  sun  is  shinin' 
down  on  Canadaw, 
An'  no  matter  w'at  I  'm  hearin',  still  I  never 
feel  lak  bein' 
No  oder  stranger  feller,  me,  but  only  habi- 
tant. 


64        The  Habitant's  Summer 

For  ciere  's  no  place  lak  our  own  place,  don't 
care  de  far  you  're  goin' 
Dat  's  w'at  de  whole  worl's  sayin',  w'enever 
dey  come  here, 
'Cos  we  got  de  fines'  contree,  an'  de  beeges' 
reever  fiovvin' 
An'    le    bon    Dieu  sen'  de  sunshine  nearly 
twelve  mont'  ev'ry  year. 


,/.. 


Little  Lac  Grenier. 

(GREN-YAV) 

LEETLE  Lac  Grenier,  she  's  all  alone, 
Right  on  de  mountain  top, 
But  cloud  sweepin'  by,  will  fin'  tarn  to  stop 
No  matter  how  quickly  he  want  to  go, 
So  he  '11  kiss  leetle  Grenier  down  below. 


Leetle  Lac  Grenier,  she  's  all  alone, 
Up  on  de  mountain  high 
But  she  never  feel  lonesome,  'cos  for  w'y  ? 
So  soon  as  de  winter  was  gone  away 
De  bird  come  an'  sing  to  her  ev'ry  day. 

65 


66  Little  Lac  Grenier 

Leetle  Lac  Grenier,  she  's  all  alone, 

Back  on  de  mountain  dere, 

But  de  pine  tree  an'  spruce  stan'  ev'ryvvhere 

Along  by  de  shore,  an*  mak'  her  warm 

For  dey  kip  off  de  win'  an'  de  winter  storm! 

Leetle  Lac  Grenier,  she  's  all  alone, 

No  broder,  no  sister  near, 

But  de  swallow   will  fly,  an'   de  beeg    moose 

deer 
An'  caribou  too,  will  go  long  way 
To  drink  de  sweet  water  of  Lac  Grenier. 

Leetle  Lac  Grenier,  I  see  you  now, 

Onder  de  roof  of  spring 

Ma  canoe  's  afloat,  an'  de  robin  sing, 

De  lily  's  beginnin'  her  summer  dress, 

An'  trout  's  wakin'  up  from  hees  long  long  res'. 

Leetle  Lac  Grenier,  I  'm  happy  now, 
Out  on  de  ole  canoe, 
For  I  'm  all  alone,  ma  chere,  wit'  you, 
An'  if  only  a  nice  light  rod  I  had 
I  'd  try  dat  fish  near  de  lily  pad! 

Leetle  Lac  Grenier,  O !  let  me  go, 
Don't  spik  no  more, 

For  your  voice  is  strong  lak  de  rapid's  roar, 
An'  you  know  youse'f  I  'm  too  far  away, 
For  visit  you  now — leetle  Lac  Grenier! 


THE    VVINDBGO 


GO  easy  wit'  de  paddle,  an'  steady  wit'  de 
oar 

Geev  rudder  to  de  bes'  man  you  got  among 
de  crew, 
Let  ev'ry  wan  be  quiet,  don't  let  dem  sing  no 
more 
Wen  you  see  de  islan'  risin'  out  of  Grande 
Lac  Manitou. 

67 


68  The  Windigo 

Above  us    on  de  sky  dere,   de  summer  cloud 
may  float 
Aroun'  us  on  de  water  de  ripple  never  show, 
But  somet'ing  down    below    us    can    rock   de 
stronges'  boat, 
Wen   we   're   comin'    near  de  islan'   of  de 
spirit  Windigo ! 

De  carcajou  may  breed  dere,  an'  otter  sweem 
de  pool 
De  moosh-rat  mak'  de  mud  house,  an'  beaver 
buil'  hees  dam 
An'  beeges'   Injun  hunter  on  all  de  Tete    de 
Boule 
Will  never  set  hees  trap  dere  from   spring 
to  summer  tarn. 

But  he  '11  bring  de  fines'  presen'  from  upper 
St.  Maurice 
De    loup  marin    an'    black-fox  from  off   de 
Hodson  Bay 
An'  hide  dem  on  de  islan'  an'  smoke  de  pipe 
of  peace 
So  Windigo  will  help  heem  w'en  he  travel 
far  away. 

We  shaintee  on  dat  islan'  on  de  winter  seexty- 
nine 
If  you  look  you  see  de  clearin'  aroun'  de 
Coo  Coo  Cache, 


The  Windigo  69 

An'  pleasan'  place  enough  too  among  de  spruce 
an'  pine 
If  foreman   on   de  shaintee    is    n't    Cyprien 
Palache. 

Beeg    feller,    alway    watchin'    on    hees    leetle 
weasel  eye, 
De  gang  dey  can't  do  not'ing  but  he  see  dem 
purty  quick 
Wit'  hees  "  Hi  dere,  w'at   you   doin'?"  ev'ry 
tarn  he  's  passin'  by 
An'  de  bad  word  he  was  usin',  wall!   it  offen 
mak'  me  sick. 

An'  he  carry  silver  w'issle  wit'  de  chain  aroun' 
hees  neck 
For  fear  he  mebbe  los'  it,  an'  ev'ry  body  say 
He  mus'  buy  it    from    de    devil    w'en    he   's 
passin'  on  Kebeck 
But  if  it   's  true  dat   story,    I    dunno    how 
moche  he  pay. 

Dere  's  plaintee  on  de  shaintee  can  sing   lak 
rossignol 
Pat  Clancy  play  de  fiddle,  an'  Jimmie  Char- 
bonneau 
Was    bring    hees    concertina    from    below    St. 
Fereol 
So  we  get  some  leetle  pleasure  till  de  long, 
long  winter  go. 


70  The  Windigo 

But  if  we  start  up  singin'  after  supper  on  de 
camp 
Par  derriere  chez  ma  tante,"  or  "  Mattawa 
wishtay," 
De  boss  he  '11  come  along  den,  an'  put  heem 
out  de  lamp, 
An'  only  stop  hees  swearin'  w'en  we  all  go 
marche  coucher. 

We  've  leetle  boy  dat  winter  from  Po-po-lo-be- 
lang 
Hees  fader  an'    hees    moder   dey    're    bote 
A-ben-a-kee 
An'  he  's  comin',    Injun   Johnnie,  wit'  some 
man  de  lumber  gang 
Was  fin'  heem  nearly  starvin'  above  on  Lac 
Souris. 

De  ole  man  an'  de  woman  is  tryin'  pass  de  Soo 
W'en  water  's  high  on  spring  tarn,  an'  of 
course  dey  're  gettin'  drown', 
For  even  smartes'  Injun  should  n't  fool  wit' 
birch  canoe, 
Were  de  reever  lak  toboggan  on  de  hill  is 
runnin'  down. 

So  dey  lef  de  leetle  feller  all  alone  away  up 
dere 
Till  lumber  gang  is  ketchin'  him  an'   bring 
him  on  de  Cache, 


The  Windigo  71 

But  better  if  he  's  stayin'  wit'  de  wolf  an'  wit' 
de  bear 
Dan  come  an'  tak'  hees  chances  wit'  Cyprien 
Palache. 

I  wonder  how  he  stan'   it,  w'y  he  never  run 
away 
For  Cyprien  lak  neeger  he  is  treat  heem  all 
de  sam' 
An'  if  he  's  wantin'  Johnnie  on  de  night  or  on 
de  day 
God  help  heem  if  dat  w'issle  she  was  below 
de  secon'  tarn ! 

De  boy  he  don't  say  not'ing,  no  wan  never  see 
heem  cry 
He  's  got  de  Injun  in  heem,  you  can  see  it 
on  de  face, 
An'  only  for  us  feller  an'  de  cook,  he  '11  surely 
die 
Long  before  de  winter  's  over,  long  before 
we  lef  de  place, 

But  I  see  heem  hidin'  somet'ing  wan  morning 
by  de  shore 
So  firse  tarn  I  was  passin'  I  scrape  away  de 
snow 
An'  it  's  rabbit  skin  he  's  ketchin'  on  de  swamp 
de  day  before, 
Leetle  Injun  Johnnie  's  workin'  on  de  spirit 
Windigo. 


72  The  Windigo 

December  's  come  in  stormy,  an'  de  snow-dreef 
fill  de  road 
Can    only  see  de  chimley    an'    roof    of    our 
cabane, 
An'    stronges'  team  on  stable  fin'  it  plaintee 
heavy  load 
Haulin'  sleigh  an'  two  t'ree  pine  log  t'roo 
de  wood  an'  beeg  savane. 

An'   I  travel  off   wan  day    me,    wit'    Cyprien 
Palache, 
Explorin'  for  new  timber,  w'en  de  win'  be- 
gin to  blow, 
So  we  hurry  on  de  snow-shoe  for  de  camp  on 
Coo  Coo  Cache 
If  de  nor'  eas'  storm   is  cornin',  was  de  bes' 
place  we  dunno — 

An'  we  're  gettin'  safe  enough  dere  wit'    de 
storm  close  on  our  heel, 
But  w'en  our  belt  we  loosen  for  takin'  off  de 
coat 
De  foreman  commence  screamin'  an'  mon  Dieu 
it  mak'  us  feel 
Lak  he  got  t'ree  t'ousan'  devil  all  fightin'  on 
hees  t'roat. 

Cyprien  is  los'  hees  w'issle,  Cyprien  is  los'  hees 
chain 
Injun  Johnnie  he  mus'  fin'  it,  even  if  de  win' 
is  high 


The  Windigo  73 

He    can    never  show   hese'f  on  de    Coo    Coo 
Cache  again 
Till  he  bring  dat  silver  w'issle  an'  de  chain 
it  's  hangin'  by. 

So  he  sen'  heem  on  hees  journey  never  knowin' 

he  come  back 
T'roo  de  rough  an'  stormy  wedder,  t'roo  de 

pile  of  dreefin'  snow 
Wat    's   de  use  of  bein'    Injun  if  you  can't 

smell  out  de  track  ?  " 
Dat   's  de  way  de  boss  is  talkin',   an'   poor 

Johnnie  have  to  go. 

If  you  want  to  hear  de  musique  of  de  nort'  win' 
as  it  blow 
An'  lissen  to  de  hurricane  an'  learn  de  way 
it  sing 
An'    feel    how    small    de   man   is  w'en    he    's 
leevin'  here  below, 
You  should  try  it  on  de  shaintee  w'en  she  's 
doin'  all  dem  t'ing! 

Wat    's    dat    soun'    lak   somet'ing   cryin'    all 
aroun'  us  ev'ryw'ere  ? 
We  never    hear  no  tonder  upon  de   winter 
storm ! 
Dey  're  shoutin'  to  each   oder  dem  voices  on 
de  air, 
An'  it  's  red  hot  too  de  stove  pipe,  but  no 
wan  's  feelin'  warm! 


74  The  Windigo 

Get  out  an'  go  de  woodpile  before  I  freeze 

to  deat' 
Cyprien  de  boss  is  yellin'  an'  he   's    lookin' 

cole  an'  w'ite 
Lak  dead  man  on  de  coffin,  but  no  wan  go, 

you  bet, 
For  if  it  's  near  de  woodpile,  't  is  n't  close 

enough  to-night ! 

Non !  we  ain't  afraid  of  not'ing,  but  we  don't 
lak  takin'  chance, 

An'  w'en  we  hear  de  spirit  of  de  wil'  A-ben- 

a-kee 
Singin'  war  song  on  de  chimley,  makin'  all  dem 

Injun  dance 
Raisin'  row  dere,  you  don't  ketch  us  on  no 

woodpile — no  siree! 

O!    de  lonesome    night    we    're    passin'    w'ile 
we  're  stayin'  on  dat  place! 
An'  ev'rybody  sheever  w'en  Jimmie  Char- 
bonneau 
Say  he  's  watchin'  on  de  winder  an'  he  see  de 
Injun  face 
An'  it  's  lookin'  so  he  tole  us,  jus'  de  sam' 
as  Windigo. 

Den    again    mese'f    I    'm    hearin'    somet'ing 
callin',  an'  it  soun' 
Lak   de    voice    of    leetle   Johnnie    so    I    'm 
passin'  on  de  door 


The  Windigo  75 

But  de  pine  stump  on  de  clearin'  wit'  de  w'ite 
sheet  all  aroun' 
Mak'  me  t'ink  of  churchyar'  tombstone,  an' 
I  can't  go  dere  no  more. 

Wat   's  de    reason  we   're  so  quiet    w'ile    our 
heart  she  's  goin'  fas' 
W'y  is  no  wan  ax  de  question?  dat  we  're 
all  afraid  to  spik  ? 
Was  it  wing  of  flyin'  wil'  bird  strek  de  winder 
as  it  pass, 
Or  de  sweesh  of  leetle  snow-ball  w'en  de  win' 
is  play  in'  trick  ? 

W'en  we  buil'  de  Coo  Coo  shaintee,  she  's  as 
steady  as  a  rock, 
Did    you    feel  de  shaintee  shakin'  de  sam, 
she's  goin'  to  fall  ? 
Dere  's  somet'ing  on  de  doorway!  an'  now  we 
hear  de  knock 
An'  up  above  de  hurricane  we  hear  de  w'issle 
call. 

Callin',  callin'  lak  a  bugle,  an'  he  's  jompin'  up 
de  boss 
From  hees  warm  bed  on  de  corner  an'  open 
wide  de  door — 
Dere  's  no  use  foller  affer  for  Cyprien  is  los' 
An'  de  Coo  Coo  Cache  an'  shaintee  he  '11 
never  see  no  more. 


76  The  Windigo 

At  las'  de  morning  's  comin',  an'  storm  is  blow 
away 
An'   outside  on  de  shaintee  young  Jimmie 
Charbonneau 
He  's  seein'  track  of  snowshoe,  'bout  de  size  of 
double  sleigh 
Dere  's  no  mistak'   it  's  makin'  by  de  spirit 
Windigo. 

An'  de  leetle  Injun  Johnnie,  he  's  all  right  I 
onderstan' 
For  you  '11  fin'  heem  up  de  reever  above  de 
Coo  Coo  Cache 
Ketchin'  mink  and  ketchin'  beaver,  an'  he  's 
growin'  great  beeg  man 
But  dat  's  de  las'  we  're  hearin'  of  Cyprien 
Palache. 


Rift*. 


--  *v&«L-r^-w^ 


^m^^&^s^ 


National  Policy 

OUR  fader  lef   ole   France  behin',   dat    's 
many  year  ago, 
An'  how  we  get  along  since  den,  wall!  ev'ry 

body  know, 
Few  t'ousan'  firse  class  familee  was  only  come 

dat  tarn, 
An*  now  we  got  pure  Canayens;  t'ree  million 
peop'  bedamme ! 


Dat  's  purty  smart  beez-nesse,  I  t'ink  we  done 

on  Canadaw, 
An'  we  don't  mak'  no  grande  hooraw,  but  do 

it  tranquillement 
So  if  we  're  braggin'  now  an'  den,  we  mus*  be 

excuzay, 
For  no  wan  's  never  see  before  de  record  bus' 


dat  way. 


77 


78  National  Policy 

An'   vv'y  should  we  be   feel  ashame,  'cos   we 

have  boy  an'  girl  ? 
No  matter  who  was  come  along,  we  '11  match 

agen  de  worl'  ; 
Wit'  plaintee  boy  lak  w'at  we  got  no  danger 

be  afraid, 
An'  all  de  girl  she  look  too  nice  for  never  come 
ole  maid. 


If  we  have  only  small  cor-nerre  de  sam'    we 

have  before 
Wen  ole  Champlain  an'  Jacques  Cartier  firse 

jomp  upon  de  shore 
Dere  's  no   use  hurry  den  at  all,  but  now  you 

understan' 
We  got  to  whoop  it  up,  ba  gosh !  for  occupy 

de  Ian' ! 


W'at  's  use  de  million  acre,  w'at  's  use  de  belle 

riviere, 
An'  t'ing  lak  dat  if  we  don't  have  somebody 

leevin'  dere  ? 
W'at  's  mak'  de  worl'  look  out  for  us,  an'  kip 

de  nation  free 
Unless  we  're  raisin'  all  de  tarn  some  fine  large 

familee  ? 


National  Policy  79 

Don't  seem  so  long  we  buil'  dat  road,  Chemin 

de  Pacifique, 
Tak'  honder  dollar  pass  on  dere,  an'  nearly  two 

t'ree  week, 
Den  look  dat  place  it  freeze  so  hard,  on  w'at 

you  call  Klon-dak, 
Wall !  if  we  have  to  fill  dem  up,  we  got  some 

large  contrac' ! 


Of  course  we  're  not  doin'  bad  jus'  now;  so 
ev'rybody  say, 

But  we  dunno  de  half  we  got  on  Canadaw  to- 
day, 

An'  still  she  's  comin'  beeger,  an'  never  mak' 
no  fuss, 

So  if  we  don't  look  out,  firse  t'ing,  she  '11  get 
ahead  of  us. 


De  more  I   t'ink,  de  more  I  'm  scare,  de  way 

she  grow  so  fas', 
An'  worse  of  all  it  's  hard  to  say  how  long  de 

boom  '11  las' 
But  if  she  don't  go  slower  an'  ease  up    leetle 

bit, 
Bimeby  de  Canayens  will  be  some  dead  bird  on 

de  pit. 


So  National  Policy 

Den     ev'ry    body    hip   hooravv !    an'     sen*    de 

familee 
Along  de  reever,  t'roo  de    wood,  an'    on    de 

grande  prairie, 
Dat  's  only  way  I  'm  t'inkin'  arrange  de  w'ole 

affaire 
An'  mebbe  after  w'ile  dere  won't  be  too  nioche 

Ian'  for  spare. 


-"1 


t':v- 


■;  .         ■      .     \ 


TUfVJN 


IN  dreams  of  the  night  I  hear  the  call 
Of  wild  duck  scudding  across  the  lake, 
In  dreams  I  see  the  old  convent  wall, 
Where  Ottawa's  waters  surge  and  break. 


But  Hercule  awakes  me  ere  the  sun 

Has  painted  the  eastern  skies  with  gold. 

Hercule!  true  knight  of  the  rod  and  gun 
As  ever  lived  in  the  days  of  old. 


"  Arise!  tho'  the  moon  hangs  high  above, 
The  sun  will  soon  usher  in  the  day, 

And  the  southerly  wind  that  sportsmen  love 
Is  blowing  across  St.  Louis  Bay." 

81 


82  Autumn  Days 

The  wind  is  moaning  among  the  trees, 
Along  the  shore  where  the  shadows  lie, 

And  faintly  borne  on  the  fresh 'ning  breeze 
From  yonder  point  comes  the  loon's  wild  cry. 


Like  diamonds  flashing  athwart  the  tide 
The  dancing  moonbeams  quiver  and  glow, 

As  out  on  the  deep  we  swiftly  glide 
To  our  distant  Mecca,  He  Perrot. 


He  Perrot  far  to  the  southward  lies, 

Pointe  Claire  on  the  lee  we  leave  behind, 

And  eager  we  gaze  with  longing  eyes, 
For  faintest  sign  of  the  deadly  "  blind." 


Past  the  point  where  Ottawa's  current  flows — 
A     league      from     St.      Lawrence      golden 
sands — 

Out  in  the  bay  where  the  wild  grass  grows 
We  mark  the  spot  where  our  ambush  stands. 


We  enter  it  just  as  the  crimson  flush 
Of  morn  illumines  the  hills  with  light, 

And  patiently  wait  the  first  mad  rush 
Of  pinions  soaring  in  airy  flight. 


Autumn  Days  83 

A  rustle  of  wings  from  over  there, 
Where  all  night  long  on  watery  bed 

The  flocks  have  slept — and  the  morning  air 
Rings  with  the  messenger  of  lead. 


Many  a  pilgrim  from  far  away 

Many  a  stranger  from  distant  seas, 

Is  dying  to-day  on  St.  Louis  Bay, 

To  requiem  sung  by  the  southern  breeze. 

And  thus  till  the  sound  of  the  vesper  bell 
Comes  stealing  o'er  Ottawa's  dusky  stream, 

And  the  ancient  light-house  we  know  so  well 
Lights  up  the  tide  with  its  friendly  gleam. 

Then  up  with  the  anchor  and  ply  the  oar, 
For  homeward  again  our  course  must  bear, 

Farewell  to  the  "  blind  "  by  He  Perrot's  shore, 
And  welcome  the  harbor  of  old  Pointe  Claire  ! 


Madeleine  Vercheres 

I'VE  told  you  many  a  tale,  my  child,  of  the 
old  heroic  days 
Of  Indian  wars  and  massacre,  of  villages  ablaze 
With  savage   torch,   from   Ville   Marie  to    the 

Mission  of  Trois  Rivieres 
But  never  have  I  told  you  yet,  of  Madeleine 
Vercheres. 


Summer  had  come  with  its  blossoms,  and  gaily 
the  robin  sang 

And  deep  in  the  forest  arches  the  axe  of  the 
woodman  rang 

Again  in  the  waving  meadows,  the  sun-browned 
farmers  met 

And  out  on  the  green  St.  Lawrence,  the  fisher- 
man spread  his  net. 

And  so  through  the  pleasant  season,  till  the 

days  of  October  came 
When  children  wrought  with  their  parents,  and 

even  the  old  and  lame 

s4 


Madeleine  Vercheres  85 

With    tottering    frames   and    footsteps,    their 

feeble  labors  lent 
At  the  gathering  of  the  harvest  le  bon   Dieu 

himself  had  sent. 


For  news  there  was  none  of  battle,  from  the 

forts  on  the  Richelieu 
To  the  gates  of  the  ancient    city,  where  the 

flag  of  King  Louis  flew 
All  peaceful  the  skies  hung  over  the  seigneurie 

of  Vercheres, 
Like  the  calm  that  so  often  cometh,  ere  the 

hurricane  rends  the  air. 


And    never    a    thought    of    danger    had    the 

Seigneur  sailing  away, 
To  join  the  soldiers  of  Carignan,  where  down 

at  Quebec  they  lay, 
But  smiled  on  his  little  daughter,  the  maiden 

Madeleine, 
And  a  necklet  of  jewels  promised  her,  when 

home  he  should  come  again. 


And  ever  the  days  passed  swiftly,  and  careless 

the  workmen  grew 
For  the  months  they  seemed  a  hundred,  since 

the  last  war-bugle  blew. 


86  Madeleine  Vercheres 

Ah  !    little  they  dreamt  on  their  pillows,   the 

farmers  of  Vercheres, 
That   the    wolves  of    the  southern   forest  had 

scented  the  harvest  fair. 


Like    ravens    they  quickly  gather,   like  tigers 

they  watch  their  prey 
Poor  people!  with  hearts  so  happy,  they  sang 

as  they  toiled  away. 
Till  the  murderous  eyeballs  glistened,  and  the 

tomahawk  leaped  out 
And    the  banks   of   the  green    St.    Lawrence 
echoed  the  savage  shout. 


Oh  mother  of    Christ  have  pity,"  shrieked 

the  women  in  despair 
This  is  no  time  for  praying,"  cried  the  young 

Madeleine  Vercheres, 
Aux  armes!  aux  armes!  les  Iroquois!  quick 

to  your  arms  and  guns 
Fight  for  your  God  and  country  and  the  lives 

of  the  innocent  ones." 


And  she  sped  like  a  deer  of  the  mountain,  when 

beagles  press  close  behind 
And  the  feet  that  would  follow  after,  must  be 

swift  as  the  prairie  wind. 


Madeleine  Vercheres  87 

Alas!  for  the  men  and  women,  and  little  ones 

that  day 
For  the  road  it  was  long  and   weary,  and  the 

fort  it  was  far  away. 


But  the  fawn  had  outstripped  the  hunters,  and 
the  palisades  drew  near, 

And  soon  from  the  inner  gateway  the  war- 
bugle  rang  out  clear  ; 

Gallant  and  clear  it  sounded,  with  never  a  note 
of  despair, 

'T  was  a  soldier  of  France's  challenge,  from 
the  young  Madeleine  Vercheres. 

And  this  is  my  little  garrison,  my  brothers 

Louis  and  Paul  ? 
With   soldiers  two  —  and  a  cripple  ?    may  the 

Virgin  pray  for  us  all. 
But  we   've  powder  and  guns  in  plenty,   and 

we  '11  fight  to  the  latest  breath 
And  if    need   be   for  God  and  country,  die  a 

brave  soldier's  death. 


Load  all  the  carabines  quickly,  and  whenever 
you  sight  the  foe 
Fire  from  the  upper  turret,  and  the  loopholes 
down  below. 


88  Madeleine  Vercheres 

Keep  up    the  fire,  brave  soldiers,  though  the 

fight  may  be  fierce  and  long 
And  they  '11  think  our  little  garrison  is  more 

than  a  hundred  strong." 

So  spake  the  maiden  Madeleine,  and  she  roused 

the  Norman  blood 
That  seemed  for  a  moment  sleeping,  and  sent 

it  like  a  flood 
Through   every    heart    around    her,   and    they 

fought  the  red  Iroquois 
As  fought  in  the  old  time  battles,  the  soldiers 

of  Carignan. 


And  they  say  the  black  clouds  gathered,  and  a 

tempest  swept  the  sky 
And  the  roar  of  the  thunder  mingled  with  the 

forest  tiger's  cry 
But    still    the    garrison    fought    on,  while    the 

lightning's  jagged  spear 
Tore  a  hole  in  the  night's  dark  curtain,  and 

showed  them  a  foeman  near. 


And  the  sun  rose  up  in  the  morning,  and  the 

color  of  blood  was  he 
Gazing  down  from  the  heavens  on  the    little 

company. 


Madeleine  Vercheres  89 

Behold  !  my  friends !  "  cried  the  maiden,  "  't  is 
a  warning  lest  we  forget 
Though  the  night    saw    us  do  our    duty,  our 
work  is  not  finished  yet." 


And  six  days  followed   each  other,  and   feeble 

her  limbs  became 
Yet  the  maid  never  sought  her  pillow,  and  the 

flash  of  the  carabines'  flame 
Illumined  the  powder-smoked  faces,  aye,  even 

when  hope  seemed  gone 
And  she  only  smiled  on  her  comrades,  and  told 

them  to  fight,  fight  on. 

And  she  blew  a  blast  on  the  bugle,  and  lo! 
from  the  forest  black 

Merrily,  merrily  ringing,  an  answer  came  peal- 
ing back 

Oh!  pleasant  and  sweet  it  sounded,  borne  on 
the  morning  air, 

For  it  heralded  fifty  soldiers,  with  gallant  De 
la  Monniere. 


And  when  he  beheld  the  maiden,  the  soldier 

of  Carignan, 
And  looked  on  the  little  garrison  that  fought 

the  red  Iroquois 


90  Madeleine  Vercheres 

And  held  their  own  in  the  battle,  for  six  long 
weary  days, 

He  stood  for  a  moment  speechless,  and  mar- 
velled at  woman's  ways. 

Then  he  beckoned  the  men  behind  him    and 

steadily  they  advance 
And  with  carabines  uplifted,  the  veterans  of 

France 
Saluted  the  brave  young  Captain  so    timidly 

standing  there 
And  they  fired  a  volley  in  honor  of  Madeleine 

Vercheres. 

And  this,  my  dear,  is  the  story  of  the  maiden 

Madeleine 
God  grant  that  we  in  Canada  may  never  see 

again 
Such  cruel  wars  and  massacres,  in  waking  or  in 

dream 
As  our  fathers  and  mothers  saw,  my  child,  in 

the  days  of  the  old  regime. 


The  Rose  Delima 

YOU  can  sew  heem  up  in  a  canvas  sack, 
An'  t'row  heem  over  boar' 
You  can  wait  till  de  ship  she  's  comin'  back 

Den  bury  heem  on  de  shore 
For  dead  man  w'en  he  's  dead  for  sure, 

Ain't  good  for  not'ing  at  all 
An'  he  '11  stay  on  de  place  you  put  heem 

Till  he  hear  dat  bugle  call 
Dey  say  will  soun'  on  de  las',  las'  day 
W'en  ev'ry  t'ing  's  goin'  for  pass  away, 
But  down  on  de  Gulf  of  St.  Laurent 

Were  de  sea  an'  de  reever  meet 
An'  off  on  St.  Pierre  de  Miquelon, 

De  chil'ren  on  de  street 
Can  tole  you  story  of  Pierre  Guillaume, 

De  sailor  of  St.  Yvonne 
Dat  's  bringin'  de  Rose  Delima  home 

Affer  he  's  dead  an'  gone. 


He  was  stretch  heem  on  de  bed  an'  he  could 
n't  raise  hees  head 


92  The  Rose  Delima 

So  dey  place  heem  near  de  winder  w'ere  he 

can  look  below, 
An'  watch  de  schooner  lie  wit'  her  topmas'  on 

de  sky, 
An'  oh!  how  mad  it  mak'  heem,  ole  Cap- 

tinne  Baribeau. 

For  she  's  de  fines'  boat  dat  never  was  afloat 
From  de  harbour  of  St.  Simon  to  de  shore  of 
New-fun-lan' 
She  can  almos'  dance  a  reel,  an'  de  sea  shell  on 
her  keel 
Wall!  you  count  dem  very  easy  on  de  finger 
of  your  han'. 

But  de  season  's  flyin'  fas',  an'  de  fall  is  nearly 
pas' 
An'  de  leetle  Rose  Delima  she  's  doin'  not- 
'ing  dere 
Only    pullin'    on    her  chain,  an'  wishin'    once 
again 
She  was  w'ere  de  black  fish  tumble,  an  jomp 
upon  de  air. 

But  who  can  tak'  her  out,   for  she   's  got  de 
tender  mout' 
Lak  a  trotter  on  de  race-course  dat  's  mebbe 
run  away 


The  Rose  Delima  93 

]f  he  's  not  jus'  handle  so— an'  ole  Captinne 
Baribeau 
Was  de  only  man  can  sail  her,  dat  's  w'at 
dey  often  say. 

An'  now   he  's  lyin'   dere,   vv'ere  de  breeze  is 
blow  hees  hair 
An'  he  's  hearin'  ev'ry  morning   de    Rose 
Delima  call, 
Sayin',  "  Come  along  wit'   me,  an'  we  '11  off 
across  de  sea, 
For  I  'm  lonesome  waitin'  for  you,  Captinne 
Paul. 

"  On  Anticosti  shore  we  hear  de  breaker  roar 
An'  reef  of  Dead  Man's  Islan'  too  we  know, 
But  we  never  miss  de  way,  no  matter  night  or 
day, 
De    Rose    Delima    schooner   an'    Captinne 
Baribeau." 

De  Captinne  cry  out  den,  so  de  house  is  shake 
again, 
Come  here!    come  here,   an'   quickly,   ma 
daughter  Virginie, 
An'   let  me  hoi'   your  han',   for  so  long  as  I 
can  stan' 
I  '11  tak'  de  Rose  Delima,  an'  sail  her  off  to 
sea. 


94  The  Rose  Delima 

No,  no,  ma  fader  dear,  you  're  better  stayin' 

here 
Till    de    cherry    show    her    blossom    on    de 

spring, 
For  de  loon  he   's   flyin'  sout'   an'   de    fall    is 

nearly  out, 
Wen  de  wil'  bird  of  de  nort'  is  on  de  wing. 

But  fader  dear,  I  know  de  man  can  go  below 
Wit'    leetle    Rose  Delima  on   St.   Pierre   de 

Miquelon 
Hees  nam'  is  Pierre  Guillaume,  an'  he  '11  bring 

de  schooner  home 
Till  she  's  t'rowin'  out  her  anchor  on  de  port 

of  St.  Simon." 

Ha!  Ha!  ma  Virginie,  it  is  n't  hard  to  see 
You  lak  dat  smart  young  sailor  man  youse'f, 
I  s'pose  he  love  you  too,  but   I   tole  you  w'at 

I  do 
Wen    I    have  some  leetle    talk    wit'    heem 

mese'f. 

So  call  heem  up  de  stair":   an*  w'en  he    's 

stannin'  dere, 
De  Captinne  say,     '  Young    feller,   you  see 

how  sick  I  be  ? 
De  poor  ole  Baribeau  has  n't  very  much  below 
Beside  de  Rose  Delima,  an'  hees  daughter 

Virginie. 


The  Rose  Delima  95 

"  An'  I  know  your  fader  well,  he  's  fine  man 
too,  Noel, 
An'    hees   nam'     was    comin'    off  en    on    ma 
prayer — 
An'  if  your  sailor  blood  she  's  only  half  as  good 
You  can  sail  de  Rose  Delima  from  here  to 
any  w'ere. 

'  You  love  ma  Virginie  ?  wall!  if  you  promise 
me 
You  bring  de  leetle  schooner  safely  home 
From  St.  Pierre  de  Miquelon  to  de  port  of  St. 
Simon 
You  can  marry  on  ma  daughter,  Pierre  Guil- 
laume. " 

An'  Pierre  he  answer  den,  "Ma  fader  was  your 
frien' 
An'  it  's  true  your  daughter  Virginie  I  love, 
Dat  schooner  she  '11  come  home,  or  ma  nam'  's 
not  Pierre  Guillaume 
I  swear  by  all  de  angel  up  above." 

So  de  wil'  bird  goin'  sout',  see  her  shake  de 
canvas  out, 
An'  soon  de  Rose  Delima  she  's  flyin'  down 
de  bay 
An'  poor  young  Virginie  so  long  as  she  can  see 
Kip   watchin'   on   dat   schooner   till    at    las' 
she's  gone  away. 


96  The  Rose  Delima 

Ho  !  ho  !  for  Gasp£  cliff  w'en  de  win'  is  blowin' 
stiff, 
Ho!  ho!    for  Anticosti  w'ere  bone  of  dead 
man  lie! 
De  sailor  cimetiere !  God  help  de  beeg  ship  dere 
If  dey  come  too  near  de  islan'  w'en  de  wave 
she  's  runnin'  high. 

It  's  locky  t'ing  he  know  de  way  he  ought  to 

g° 
It  's  locky  too  de  star  above,  he  know  dem 

ev'ry  wan 
For  God  he  mak'  de  star,  was  shinin'  up  so  far, 
So  he  trus'  no  oder  compass,  young  Pierre 

of  St.  Yvonne. 

An'  de  schooner  sail  away  pas'  Wolf  Islan'  an' 
Cape  Ray — 
W'ere  de  beeg  wave  fight  each  oder  roun'  de 
head  of  ole  Pointe  Blanc 
Only    gettin'    pleasan'  win',     till  she  tak'    de 
canvas  in 
An'    drop  de  anchor  over  on  St.  Pierre  de 
Miquelon. 

We  're  glad  to  see  some  more,  de  girl  upon  de 
shore, 
An'  Jean  Barbette  was  kipin'  Hotel  de  Sans- 
souci 


The  Rose  Delima  97 

He  's  also  glad  we  come,  'cos  we  mak'  de  rafter 
hum ; 
An*  w'en  we   're  stayin'   dere,  ma   foi!  we 
spen'  de  monee  free. 

But  Captinne  Pierre  Guillaume,  might  jus'  as 
well  be  home, 
For  he  don't  forget  his  sweetheart  an'  ole 
man  Baribeau, 
An'  so  he  stay  on  boar',  an'  fifty  girl  or  more 
Less    dey  haul    heem   on    de    bowline,    dey 
could  n't  mak'  heem  go. 

Wall!   we   're    workin'   hard   an'   fas',    an'    de 
cargo  's  on  at  las' 
Two  honder  cask  of  w'isky,  de  fines'  on  de 
worl' ! 
So  good-bye  to  Miquelon,  an'  hooraw  for  St. 
Simon — 
An'  au  revoir  to  Jean  Barbette,  an'   don't 
forget  de  girl. 

You  can  hear  de  schooner  sing,  w'en  she  open 
out  her  wing 
So  glad  to  feel  de  slappin'  of  de  sea  wave  on 
her  breas' 
She  did  n't  los'  no   tarn,    but    travel  jus'   de 
sam', 
As  de  small  bird  w'en  he  's  flyin'  on  de  even- 
ing to  hees  nes'. 


98  The  Rose  Delima 

But  her  sail  \s  not  blowin'  out  wit'  de  warm 
breeze  of  de  sout' 
An'  it  's  not  too  easy  tellin'  w'ere  de  snow- 
flake  meet  de  foam 
Stretchin'  out  on  ev'ry  side,  all  across  de  Gulf 
so  wide 
Wen   de  nor'-eas'  win'   is  chasin'  de  Rose 
Delima  home. 

An'  we  're  flyin'   once  again    pas'  de   Isle  of 
Madeleine 
An'  away  for  Anticosti  we  let  de  schooner 

go 
Lak  a  race-horse  on  de  track,  we  could  never 
hoi'  her  back — 
She  mebbe  hear  heem  callin'  her,  ole  Cap- 
tinne  Baribeau ! 


But  we  're  ketchin'  it  wan  night  w'en  de  star 
go  out  of  sight 
For  de  storm  dat  's  waitin'  for  us,  come  be- 
fore we  know  it  's  dere — 
An'  it  blow  us  near  de  coas'  w'ere  dey  leev* 
de  sailor's  ghos' 
On  de  shore  of  Dead  Man's  Islan'  till  dey 
almos'  fill  de  air. 

So  de  Captinne  tak'  de  wheel,  an'  it  mak'  de 
schooner  feel 


The  Rose  Delima  99 

Jus'  de  sam'  as  ole  man  Baribeau  is  workin' 

dere  hese'f 
Well  she  know   it   's  life    or  deat',   so    she   's 

fightin'  hard  for  breat' 
For  wit'  all  dem  wave  a  chokin'  her,  it  's 

leetle  she  got  lef. 

Den  de  beeges'  sea  of  all,  stannin'  up  dere  lak 
a  wall 
Come  along  an'  sweep  de  leetle  Rose   De- 
lima fore  an'  af 
An'  above  de  storm  a  cry,  "  Help,  mon  Dieu ! 
before  I  die." 
An'  dere  's  no  wan  on  de  wheel  house,  an' 
we  hear  dem  spirit  laugh. 

Dey    're    lookin'   for  dead    man,    an'    dey    're 
shoutin'  all  dey  can 
Don't  matter  all  de  pile  dey  got  dey  want 
anoder  wan — 
An'  now  dey  're  laughin'   loud,  for  out  of  all 
de  crowd 
Dey  got  no  finer  sailor  boy  dan  Pierre  of  St. 
Yvonne! 

But  look  dere  on  de  wheel!  w'at   's    dat  was 
seem  to  steal 
From  now'ere,  out  of  not'ing,  till  it  reach  de 
pilot's  place 


ioo  The  Rose  Deli  ma 

An'  steer  de  rudder  too,  lak  de  Captinne  used 
to  do 
So  lak'  de  Captinne's  body,  so  lak  de  Cap- 
tinne's  face. 


But  well  enough  we  know  de  poor  boy  's  gone 
below, 
Were  hees  bone  will   join   de   oder  on  de 
place  w'ere  dead  man  be — 
An'  we  only  see  phantome  of  young  Captinne 
Pierre  Guillaume 
Dat  sail  de  Rose  Delima  all  night  along  de 
sea. 


So  we  help  heem  all  we  can,  kip  de  schooner 
off  de  Ian' 
W'ere  bad  spirit  work  de  current   dat   was 
pullin'  us  inside — 
But  we  fool  dem  all  at  las',  an'  we  know  de 
danger  's  pas' 
Wen  de  sun  come  out  an'   fin'   us  floatin' 
on  de  morning  tide. 


So  de  Captinne's  work  is  done,  an'  nex'  day  de 
schooner  run 
Wit'  de  sail  all  hangin'  roun'  her,  to  de  port 
of  St.  Simon. 


The  Rose  Delima  101 

Dat  's  de  way  young  Pierre  Guillaume  bring 
de  Rose  Delima  home 
T'roo  de  wil*  an'  stormy  wedder  from  St. 
Pierre  de  Miquelon. 

An'  de  leetle  Virginie  never  look  upon  de  sea 
Since  de   tarn    de    Rose  Delima    's   comin' 
home, 
For  she  's  lef  de  worl'  an'  all!  but  behin'  de 
convent  wall 
She  don't  forget  her  fader  an'  poor  young 
Pierre  Guillaume. 


■  LITTLE  MOUSE 

GET  along  leetle  mouse,  kick  de  snow  up 
behin'  you 
For  it's  fine  winter  road  we  're  travel    to- 
night 
Wit'  de  moon  an'  de  star  shinin'  up  on  de  sky 
dere 
W'y  it  's  almos'  de  sam'  as  de  broad  day 
light. 


De  bell  roun'  your  body  it 's  quick  tune  dey  're 
playin' 
But  your  foot   's  kipin'  tarn  jus'   as  steady 
can  be, 
Ah!  you  dance  youse'f  crazy  if  only  I  let  you, 
Ma  own  leetle  pony — petite  souris. 


I02 


Little  Mouse  103 

You  'member  w'en  firse  we  be  tryin'  for  broke 
you 
An'  Joe  Sauvageau  bet  hees  two  dollar  bill 
He  can  drive  you  alone  by  de   bridge  on   de 
reever 
An'  down  near  de  place  w'ere  dey  got  de 
beeg  mill. 

An'  it  's    new   cariple   too,  is  come  from  St. 
Felix 

Jo-seph  's  only  buyin'  it  week  before, 
An'  w'en  he  is  passin'  de  road  wit'  hees  trotter 

Ev'ry  body  was  stan'  on  de  outside  door. 

An'    dere   he  sit,  sam'    he   don't    care   about 

not'ing 

Hees  foot  on  de  dashboar',  hees  han'  on  de 

line 

Ev'ry  dog  on  de  place  is  come  out  for  barkin' 

An'  all  de  young  boy  he  was  ronnin'  behin'. 

Wall!  sir,  Joe  's  put  on  style  leetle  soon  for 
hees, pleasure 
For  w'en  de  mill  w'issle,  you  jomp  lak  de 
cat 
An'   nex'    t'ing  poor  Joe  is   commencin'    get 
busy, 
Non!  I  never  see  fine  run-away  lak  dat. 


104  Little  Mouse 

'Way  go  de  pony  den— 'way  go  de  cariole, 
Poor  Joe  say,"  good-bye  "  on  de  foot  of  de 
hill 

An'  all  he  can  see  of  de  sleigh  de  nex'  morning 
Is  jus'  about  pay  for  hees  two  dollar  bill. 

Ah!  your  right  nam'  jus'  den  should  be  leetle 
devil 
An'  not  leetle  mouse,  de  sam'  you  have  now. 
Wall!  dat  's  long  ago,  an'  you  're  gettin'  more 
quiet 
Since  tarn  you  was  never  done  kickin'    de 
row. 

But  I  'm  not  very  sorry  de  firse  day  I  see  you 
Settle  down  on  de  trot  lak  your  fader  he  get 

W'en  he    beat    Sorel    Boy  on  de  ice  at  T'ree 
Reever 
Bes'  two  on  t'ree  heat,  an'  win  all  de  bet. 

Your  moder  she  's  come  off  de  Lachapelle  stock 
too 

Ole  Canayen  blood  from  Berthier  en  haut 
De  bes'  kin'  of  horse  never  look  on  de  halter 

So  it  is  n't  moche  wonder  you  know  how  to 

g°- 

Dat  's  church  bell  we  're  hearin'  off  dere  on  de 
hillside 


Little  Mouse  105 

Get  along  leetle  mouse,  for  we  must  n't  be 

late, 
Fin'  your  way  t'roo  de  res'  of  dem  crowdin'  de 

roadside 
You  '11  never  get  better  chance  showin'  your 

gait. 

Wall !  church  is  all  over,  an'  Josephine  's  comin* 

For  drive  wit'  us  home  on  her  gran'moder's 

house 

So  tak'  your  own  tarn  an'  don't  be  on  de  hurry 

Your  slowes'  gait 's  quick  enough  now,  leetle 

mouse. 


mm 


/ 


3. 


■A 


Strathcona's   H  orse 

(Dedicated  to  Lord  Strathcona.) 

01   was  thine,   and   thou  wert  mine,   and 
ours  the  boundless  plain, 
Where    the  winds  of  the  North,    my    gallant 

steed,  ruffled  thy  tawny  mane, 
But  the  summons  hath  come  with  roll  of  drum, 

and  bugles  ringing  shrill, 
Startling  the  prairie  antelope,  the  grizzly  of  the 

hill. 
'T  is  the  voice  of  Empire  calling,  and  the  child- 
ren gather  fast 
From  every  land  where  the  cross  bar  floats  out 

from  the  quivering  mast; 
So  into  the  saddle  I  leap,  my  own,  with  bridle 

swinging  free, 
And  thy  hoofbeats  shall  answer  the  trumpets 

blowing  across  the  sea. 
Then  proudly  toss  thy  head  aloft,  nor  think  of 

the  foe  to-morrow, 
For  he  who  dares    to  stay  our  course  drinks 

deep  of  the  Cup  of  Sorrow. 

1 06 


Strathcona's  Horse  107 

Thy  form  hath  pressed  the  meadow's  breast, 

where  the  sullen  grey  wolf  hides, 
The  great  red  river  of  the  North  hath  cooled 

thy  burning  sides; 
Together  we  've  slept  while  the  tempest  swept 

the  Rockies'  glittering  chain  ; 
And  many  a  day  the  bronze  centaur  hath  gal- 
loped behind  in  vain. 
But  the  sweet  wild  grass  of  mountain  pass,  and 

the  shimmering  summer  streams 
Must  vanish  forevermore,  perchance,  into  the 

land  of  dreams; 
For  the  strong  young  North  hath  sent  us  forth 

to  battlefields  far  away, 
And  the  trail  that  ends  where  Empire  trends, 

is  the  trail  we  ride  to-day. 
But  proudly  toss  thy  head  aloft,  nor  think  of 

the  foe  to-morrow, 
For  he  who  bars  Strathcona's  Horse,  drinks 

deep  of  the  Cup  of  Sorrow. 


Johnnie's   First   Moose 

DE  cloud  is  hide  de  moon,  but  dere  's  plain- 
tee  light  above, 
Steady  Johnnie,  steady — kip  your  head  down 

low, 
Move  de  paddle  leetle  quicker,  an'  de  ole  canoe 
we  '11  shove 

T'roo  de  water  nice  an'  quiet 
For  de  place  we  're  goin'  try  it 
Is  beyon'  de  silver  birch  dere 
You  can  see  it  lak  a  church  dere 
Wen  we  're  passin'  on  de  corner  w'ere  de  lily 
flower  grow. 


Was  n't  dat  correc'  w'at  I   'm  tolin'  you  jus' 

now  ? 
Steady  Johnnie,  steady — kip  your  head  down 

low, 
Never  min',  I  '11  watch  behin'  —  me  —  an'  you 
can  watch  de  bow 

An'  you  '11  see  a  leetle  clearer 
Wen  canoe  is  comin'  nearer — 
108 


Johnnie's  First  Moose         109 

Dere  she  is — now  easy,  easy, 
For  de  win'  is  gettin'  breezy, 
An'   we  don't  want  not'ing  smell  us,    till  de 
horn  begin  to  blow — 

I  remember  long  ago  w'en  ma  fader  tak'  me  out, 
Steady  Johnnie,  steady — kip  your  head  down 

low, 
Jus'   de  way  I   'm  takin'  you,   sir,   hello!  was 
dat  a  shout  ? 

Seems  to  me  I  t'ink  I  'm  hearin' 
Somet'ing  stirrin'  on  de  clearin' 
Were  it  stan'  de  lumber  shaintee, 
If  it  's  true,  den  you  '11  have  plaintee 
Work  to  do  in  half  a  minute,  if  de  moose  don't 
start  to  go. 

An'  now  we  're  on  de  shore,  let  us  hide  de  ole 

canoe, 
Steady  Johnnie,  steady — kip  your  head  down 

low, 
An'  lie  among  de  rushes,  dat  's  bes'  t'ing  we 
can  do, 

For  de  ole  boy  may  be  closer 
Dan  anybody  know,  sir, 
An'  look  out  you  don't  be  shakin' 
Or  de  bad  shot  you  '11  be  makin' 
But   I   'm   feelin'   sam'  way   too,  me,  w'en   I 
was  young,  also — 


no        Johnnie's  First  Moose 

You  ready  for  de  call  ?    here  goes  for  number 

wan, 
Steady  Johnnie,  steady — kip  your  head  down 

low, 
Did    you    hear  how  nice  I  do  it,   an'  how  it 
travel  on 

Till  it  reach  across   de  reever 
Dat  '11  geev'  some  moose  de  fever! 
Wait  now,  Johnnie,  don't  you  worry, 
No  use  bein'  on  de  hurry, 
But  lissen  for  de  answer,  it  '11  come  before  you 
know. 

For  w'y  you  jomp  lak  dat  ?  w'at  's  matter  wit' 

your  ear  ? 
Steady,  Johnnie,  steady — kip  your  head  down 

low — 
Tak'  your  finger  off  de  trigger,  dat  was  only 
bird  you  hear, 

Can't  you  tell  de  pine  tree  crickin' 
Or  de  boule  frog  w'en  he  's  spikin'  ? 
Don't  you  know  de  grey  owl  singin' 
From  de  beeg  moose  w'en  he  's  ringin' 
Out  hees  challenge    on  de    message  your  ole 
gran 'fader  blow  ? 

You  're  lucky  boy  to-night,  wit'  hunter  man 

lak  me! 
Steady,  Johnnie,  steady — kip  your  head  down 

low  — 


Johnnie's  First  Moose         in 

Can   tole   you   all   about  it!     H-s-s-h!    dat    's 
somet'ing  now  I  see, 

Dere  he  's  comin'  t'roo  de  bushes, 
So  get  down  among  de  rushes, 
Hear  heem  walk!     I  t'ink,  by  tonder, 
He  mus'  go  near  fourteen  honder! 
Dat  's  de  feller  I  been  watchin'  all  de  evening, 
I  dunno. 


I  '11   geev'  anoder   call,  jus'  a    leetle  wan    or 

two, 
Steady,  Johnnie,  steady — kip  your  head  down 

low — 
Wen  he  see  dere  's  no  wan  waitin'  I  wonder 
w'at  he  '11  do  ? 

But  look  out  for  here  he  's  comin' 
Sa-pris-ti !  ma  heart  is  drummin' ! 
You  can  never  get  heem  nearer 
An'  de  moon  is  shinin'  clearer, 
W'at    a    fine    shot    you    '11    be    havin' !     now 
Johnnie  let  her  go! 

Bang!  bang!  you  got  heem  sure!  an'  he  '11 
never  run  away 

Nor  feed  among  de  lily  on  de  shore  of  Wes- 
sonneau, 

So  dat  's  your  firse  moose  Johnnie!  wall!  re- 
member all  I  say — ■ 


ii2        Johnnie's  First  Moose 

Does  n't  matter  w'at  you  're  chasin', 
Does  n't  matter  w'at  you  're  facin', 
Only  watch  de  t'ing  you  're  doin' 
If  you  don't,  ba  gosh!  you  're  ruin! 
An'  steady,  Johnnie,   steady — kip    your  head 
down  low. 


rV,<A^ x '  c--7  /  0-\?,  ;r.  ■  drafter   .of  9, 


The  Old   Pine  Tree 

(Dedicated  to  the  St.  George  Snowshoe  Club.) 

LISTEN    my  child,"    said   the   old  pine 
tree,  to  the  little  one  nestling  near, 
"  For  the  storm  clouds  troop  together  to-night, 

and  the  wind  of  the  north  I  hear 
And  perchance  there  may  come  some  echo  of 

the  music  of  long  ago, 
The  music  that  rang  when   the  White   Host 
sang,  marching  across  the  snow." 

'  Up  and  away  Saint  George !   up  thro'  the 

mountain  gorge, 
Over  the  plain  where  the  tempest  blows,  and 

the  great  white  flakes  are  flying 
Down  the  long  narrow  glen !  faster  my  merry 

men, 
Follow  the  trail,  tho'  the  shy  moon  hides,  and 

deeply  the  drifts  are  lying." 

'  Ah!  mother,"   the   little  pine   tree  replied, 
"  you  are  dreaming  again  to-night 

"3 


ii4  The  Old  Pine  Tree 

Of  ghostly  visions  and  phantom  forms  that  for- 
ever mock  your  sight 

'T  is  true  the  moan  of  the  winter  wind  comes 
to  my  list'ning  ear 

But  the  White  Host  marching,  I  cannot  see, 
and  their  music  I  cannot  hear." 

When   the    northern    skies  were    all   aflame 
where  the  trembling  banners  swung, 
When  up  in  the  vaulted  heavens  the  moon  of 

the  Snow  Shoe  hung, 
When  the  hurricane  swept  the  hillside,  and  the 

crested  drifts  ran  high 
Those  were  the  nights,"  said  the  old  pine  tree, 
the  great  White  Host  marched  by." 

And  the  storm   grew  fiercer,  fiercer,  and  the 

snow  went  hissing  past, 
But  the  little  pine  tree  still  listened,  till  she 

heard  above  the  blast 
The   music   her  mother  loved  to  hear  in  the 

nights  of  the  long  ago 
And   saw   in   the   forest   the  white-clad    Host 

marching  across  the  snow. 

And  loud  they  sang  as  they  tramped  along  of 

the  glorious  bygone  days 
When    valley    and    hill    re-echoed    the    snow- 

shoer's  hymn  of  praise 


The  Old  Pine  Tree  115 

Till  the  shy  moon  gazed  down  smiling,  and  the 

north  wind  paused  to  hear 
And  the  old  pine  tree  felt  young  again  as  the 

little  one  nestling  near. 

Up    and  away  Saint  George!    up  thro'  the 

mountain  gorge. 
Over  the  plain  where  the  tempest  blows,  and 

the  great  white  flakes  are  flying. 
Down  the  long  narrow  glen!  faster  my  merry 

men. 
Follow  the  trail,  tho'  the  shy  moon  hides,  and 

deeply  the  drifts  are  lying." 


Little  Bateese 

YOU  bad  leetle  boy,  not  moche  you  care 
How  busy  you  're  lupin'  your  poor  gran'- 
pere 
Tryin'  to  stop  you  ev'ry  day 
Chasin'  de  hen  aroun'  de  hay— 
W'y  don't  you  geev'  dem  a  chance  to  lay  ? 

Leetle  Bateese! 

Off  on  de  fiel'  you  foller  de  plough 
Den  w'en  you  're  tire  you  scare  de  cow 
Sickin*  de  dog  till  dey  jomp  de  wall 
So  de  milk  ain't  good  for  not'ing  at  all — 
An'  you  're  only  five  an'  a  half  dis  fall, 

Leetle  Bateese ! 


Too  sleepy  for  sayin'  de  prayer  to-night  ? 
Never  min'  I  s'pose  it  '11  be  all  right 
Say  dem  to-morrow — ah !  dere  he  go ! 
Fas'  asleep  in  a  minute  or  so — 
An'  he  '11  stay  lak  dat  till  de  rooster  crow, 

Leetle  Bateese! 

116 


Little  Bateese  117 

Den  wake  us  up  right  away  toute  suite 
Lookin'  for  somet'ing  more  to  eat, 
Makin'  me  t'ink  of  dem  long  leg  crane 
Soon  as  dey  swaller,  dey  start  again, 
I  wonder  your  stomach  don't  get  no  pain, 

Leetle  Bateese ! 

But  see  heem  now  lyin'  dere  in  bed, 
Look  at  de  arm  onderneat'  hees  head ; 
If  he  grow  lak  dat  till  he  's  twenty  year 
I  bet  he  '11  be  stronger  dan  Louis  Cyr 
An'  beat  all  de  voyageurs  leevin'  here, 

Leetle  Bateese ! 

Jus'  feel  de  muscle  along  hees  back, 
Won't  geev'  heem  moche  bodder  for  carry  pack 
On  de  long  portage,  any  size  canoe, 
Dere  's  not  many  t'ing  dat  boy  won't  do 
For  he  's  got  double-joint  on  hees  body  too, 

Leetle  Bateese ! 

But  leetle  Bateese !  please  don't  forget 
We  rader  you  're  stayin'  de  small  boy  yet, 
So  chase  de  chicken  an'  mak'  dem  scare 
An'  do  w'at  you  lak  wit'  your  ole  gran'pere 
For  w'en  you  're  beeg  feller  he  won't  be  dere — 

Leetle  Bateese! 


-  Iff? 


^v 


Donal'  Campbell 


DONAL'     CAMBBELL 
— Donal'      Bane  — 
sailed   away   across   the 
ocean 
With    the    tartans    of    Clan 
Gordon,  to  the  Indies' 
distant  shore, 
But  on  Dargai's  lonely  hill- 
side,   Donal'    Campbell 
met  the  foeman, 
And     the     glen     of    Athol 
Moray  will  never  see  him  more! 

O!  the  wailing  of  the  women,  O!  the  storm  of 

bitter  sorrow 
Sweeping  like  the  wintry  torrent  thro'  Athol 

Moray's  glen 
When  the  black  word  reached  the  clansmen, 

that  young  Donal'  Bane  had  fallen 
In  the  red  glare  of  the  battle,  with  the  gallant 

Gordon  men ! 

118 


Donal'  Campbell  119 

Far  from  home  and  native  shelling,  with  the 

sun  of  India  o'er  him 
Blazing  down  its  cruel  hatred  on  the   white- 

faced  men  below 
Stood  young  Donal'  with  his  comrades,  like  the 

hound  of  ghostly  Fingal 
Eager,   waiting    for    the  summons  to  leap  up 

against  the  foe — 


*&>■■ 


Hark!  at  last!   the  pipes  are  pealing  out  the 

welcome  Caber  Feidh 
And   wild   the   red    blood   rushes    thro'    every 

Highland  vein 
They  breathe  the  breath  of  battle,  the  children 

of  the  Gael, 
And  fiercely  up  the  hillside,  they  charge  and 

charge  again — 

And   the  grey  eye  of  the  Highlands,  now  is 

dark  as  blackest  midnight, 
The  history  of  their  fathers  is  written  on  each 

face, 
Of  border  creach  and  foray,  of  never  yielding 

conflict 
Of  all  the  memories  shrouding  a  stern  uncon- 

quered  race ! 

And  up  the  hillside,  up  the  mountain,  while 
the  war-pipes  shrilly  clamour 


120  Donal'  Campbell 

Bayonet    thrusting,   broadsword  cleaving,  the 

Northern  soldiers  fought 
Till  the  sun  of  India  saw  them  victors  o'er  the 

dusky  foemen, 
For  who  can  stay  the  Celtic  hand  when  Celtic 

blood  is  hot  ? 

But  the  corse  of  many  a  clansman  from  the  far- 
off  Scottish  Highlands 

'Mid  the  rocks  of  savage  Dargai  is  lying  cold 
and  still 

With  the  death-dew  on  its  forehead,  and  young 
Donal'  Campbell's  tartan 

Bears  a  deeper  stain  of  purple  than  the  heather 
of  the  hill! 

Mourn  him  !     Mourn  him  thro'  the  mountains, 

wail  him  women  of  Clan  Campbell! 
Let  the  Coronach  be  sounded  till  it  reach  the 

Indian  shore 
For  your  beautiful  has  fallen  in  the  foremost 

of  the  battle 
And  the  glen  of  Athol  Moray  will  never  see 

him  more' 


r  r  o-  /  V  •»  +  r,  ¥y  ■     -  ■'■       XNSrMr' 


The   Dublin   Fusilier 

HERE  'S  to  you,   Uncle  Kruger!   slainte ! 
an'  slainte  galore. 
You  're  a  dacint    ould   man,    begorra;    never 

mind  if  you  are  a  Boer. 
So  with  heart  an'  a  half  ma  bouchal,  we  '11 

drink  to  your  health  to-night 
For  yourself  an'  your  farmer  sojers  gave  us  a 
damn  good  fight. 

I  was  dramin'  of  Kitty  Farrell,  away  in  the 
Gap  o'  Dunloe, 

When  the  song  of  the  bugle  woke  me,  ringin' 
across  Glencoe; 

An'  once  in  a  while  a  bullet  came  pattherin' 
from  above, 

That  tould  us  the  big  brown  fellows  were  send- 
in'  us  down  their  love. 


'T  was  a  kind  of  an  invitation,  an'  written  in 

such  a  han' 
That  a  Chinaman  could  n't  refuse  it — not  to 

spake  of  an  Irishman. 


121 


122  The  Dublin  Fusilier 

So  the  pickets  sent  back  an  answer.     "  We  're 

comin'  with  right  good  will," 
Along  what  they  call  the  kopje,  tho'  to  me  it 

looked  more  like  a  hill. 


Fall  in  on  the  left,"  sez  the  captain,  "  my 
men  of  the  Fusiliers; 
You    '11  see  a  great  fight  this    morning — like 
you  have  n't  beheld  for  years." 
Faith,  captain  dear,"  sez  the  sergeant,  "  you 
can  bet  your  Majuba  sword 
If  the  Dutch  is  as  willin'  as  we  are,  you  never 
spoke  truer  word." 


So  we  scrambled  among  the  bushes,  the  bowl- 
ders an'  rocks  an'  all, 

Like  the  gauger's  men  still-huntin'  on  the 
mountains  of  Donegal; 

We  doubled  an'  turned  an'  twisted  the  same 
as  a  hunted  hare, 

While  the  big  guns  peppered  each  other  over 
us  in  the  air.  • 


Like  steam  from  the  divil's  kettle  the  kopje 

was  bilin'  hot, 
For  the  breeze  of  the  Dutchman's  bullets  was 

the  only  breeze  we  got; 


The  Dublin  Fusilier  123 

An'  many  a  fine  boy  stumbled,  many  a  brave 

lad  died, 
When    the    Dutchman's  message  caught  him 

there  on  the  mountainside. 


Little    Nelly    O'Brien,    God    help   her!     over 

there  at  ould  Ballybay, 
Will  wait  for  a  Transvaal  letter  till  her  face  an' 

her  hair  is  grey, 
For  I  seen  young  Crohoore  on  a  stretcher,  an' 

I  knew  the  poor  boy  was  gone 
When  I  spoke  to  the  ambulance  doctor,  an'  he 

nodded  an'  then  passed  on. 

Steady  there!  "  cried  the  captain,  "  we  must 

halt  for  a  moment  here." 
An'  he  spoke  like  a  man  in  trainin',  full  winded 

an'  strong  an'  clear. 
So  we  threw  ourselves  down   on  the    kopje, 

weary  an'  tired  as  death, 
Waitin'  the  captain's  orders,  waitin'  to  get  a 

breath. 


It  's  strange  all  the  humors  an'  fancies  that 

comes  to  a  man  like  me; 
But  the  smoke  of  the   battle  risin'   took  me 

across  the  sea — 


124  The  Dublin  Fusilier 

It  's  the  mist  of  Benbo  I  'm  seein' ;  an'  the 

rock  that  we  '11  capture  soon 
Is  the  rock  where  I  shot  the  eagle,  when  I  was 

a  small  gossoon. 

I  close  my  eyes  for  a  minute,  an'  hear  my  poor 

mother  say, 
Patrick,  avick,  my  darlin',  you  're  surely  not 

goin'  away 
To  join    the    red-coated    sojers  ?  "  —  but    the 

blood  in  me  was  strong — 
If  your  sire  was  a  Connaught   Ranger,   sure 

where  would  his  son  belong  ? 

Hark!  whisht!  do  you  hear  the  music  comin' 

up  from  the  camp  below  ? 
An  odd  note  or  two  when  the  Maxims  take 

breath  for  a  second  or  so, 
Liftin'  itself  on  somehow,  stealin'  its  way  up 

here, 
Knowin'  there  's  waitin'  to  hear  it,  many  an 

Irish  ear. 


Augh !  Garryowen !  you  're  the  jewel !  an'  we 
charged  on  the  Dutchman's  guns, 

An'  covered  the  bloody  kopje,  like  a  Galway 
greyhound  runs, 


The  Dublin  Fusilier  125 

At  the  top  of  the  hill  they  met  us,  with  faces 

all  set  and  grim  ; 
But  they  could  n't  take  the  bayonet — that  's 

the  trouble  with  most  of  thim. 


So  of  course,  they  '11  be  praisin'  the  Royals 

an'  men  of  the  Fusiliers, 
An'  the  newspapers  help  to  dry  up  the  widows 

an'  orphans'  tears, 
An'  they  '11  write  a  new  name  on  the  colors — 

that  is,  if  there  's  room  for  more 
An'  we  '11  follow  them  thro'  the  battle,  the  same 

as  we  've  done  before. 

But  here  's  to  you,  Uncle  Kruger!  slainte!  an' 

slainte  galore. 
After  all,  your  're  a   dacint   Christian,  never 

mind  if  you  are  a  Boer. 
So  with  heart  an'  a  half,  ma  bouchal,  we  '11 

drink  to  your  health  to-night, 
For  yourself  an'  your  brown-faced  Dutchmen 

gave  us  a  damn  good  fight. 


BORD  a  Plouffe,  Bord  a  Plouffe, 
Wat  do  I  see  w'en  I  dream  of  you  ? 
A  shore  w'ere  de  water  is  racin'  by, 
A  small  boy  lookin',  an'  wonderin'  w'y 
He  can't  get  fedder  for  goin'  fly 
Lak  de  hawk  makin'  ring  on  de  summer  sky. 
Dat  's  w'at  I  see. 

Bord  a  Plouffe,  Bord  a  Plouffe, 
W'at  do  I  hear  w'en  I  dream  of  you? 
Too  many  t'ing  for  sleepin'  well! 
De  song  of  de  ole  tarn  cariole  bell, 
De  voice  of  dat  girl  from  Sainte  Angele 
(I  geev'  her  a  ring  was  mark  "  fidele  ") 
Dat  's  w'at  I  hear. 


Bord  a  Plouffe,  Bord  a  Plouffe, 

W'at  do  I  smoke  w'en  I  dream  of  you  ? 

126 


Dreams  127 

Havana  cigar  from  across  de  sea, 
An'  get  dem  for  not'ing  too  ?     No  siree! 
Dere  's  only  wan  kin'  of  tabac  for  me. 
An'  it  grow  on  de  Riviere  des  Prairies — 
Dat  's  w'at  I  smoke. 

Bord  a  Plouffe,  Bord  a  Plouffe, 
How  do  I  feel  w'en  I  t'ink  of  you  ? 
Sick,  sick  for  de  ole  place  way  back  dere — 
An'  to  sleep  on  ma  own  leetle  room- upstair 
Were  de  ghos'  on  de  chimley  mak'  me  scare 
I  'd  geev'  more  monee  dan  I  can  spare — 
Dat  's  how  I  feel. 

Bord  a  Plouffe,  Bord  a  Plouffe, 
W'at  will  I  do  w'en  I  'm  back  wit'  you  ? 
I  '11  buy  de  farm  of  Bonhomme  Martel, 
Long  tarn  he  's  been  waitin'  a  chance  to  sell, 
Den  pass  de  nex'  morning  on  Sainte  Angele, 
An'  if  she  's  not  marry — dat  girl — very  well, 
Dat  's  w'at  I  '11  do. 


...... 


=v 


^7-;- 


I  KNOW  very  well  t'  was  purty  hard  case 
If  dere  's  not  on  de  worl'  some  beeger  place 
Dan  village  of  Cote  St.  Paul, 
But  we  got  mebbe  sixty-five  house  or  more 
Wit'  de  blacksmit'  shop  an'  two  fine  store 
Not  to  speak  of  de  church  an'  de  city  hall. 

An'  of  course  on  village  lak  dat  you  fin' 
Some  very  nice  girl  if  you  have  a  min' 
To  look  aroun',  an'  we  got  dem  too — 
But  de  fines'  of  all  never  wear  a  ring. 
Since  firse  I  *m  t'inkin'  of  all  dem  fine 
Was  daughter  of  ole  Narcisse  Beaulieu. 


Narcisse  he  's  bedeau  on  de  beeg  church  dere, 
He  also  look  affer  de  presbytere, 
An'  leev  on  de  house  close  by, 

128 


The  Old  Sexton  129 

On  Sunday  he  's  watchin'  de  leetle  boys, 
Stoppin'  dem  kickin'  up  too  much  noise, 
An'  he  bury  de  peop'  w'en  dey  're  comin'  die. 

So  dat  's  w'at  he  do,  Narcisse  Beaulieu, 
An'  it  's  not  very  easy  I  'm  tolin'  you, 
But  a  purty  large  heavy  load, 
For  on  summer  de  cow  she  was  run  aroun' 
An'  eat  all  de  flower  on  de  Cure's  groun' 
An'  before  he  can  ketch    her,  p-s-s-t !    she  's 
down  de  road. 

Dat  's  not'ing  at  all,  for  w'en  winter  come 
Narcisse  got  plaintee  more  work,  ba  gum ! 
Shovellin'  snow  till  hees  back  was  sore, 
Makin'  some  track  for  de  horse  an'  sleigh, 
Kipin'  look  out  dey  don't  run  away, 
An'  freezin'  outside  on  de  double  door. 

But  w'enever  de  vault  on  de  church  is  fill 
Wit'  de  peop'  was  waitin'  down  dere  ontil 
Dey  can  go  on  de  cimetiere, 
For  fear  dem  student  will  come  aroun' 
An'  tak'  de  poor  dead  folk  off  to  town 
Narcisse  offen  watch  for  dem  all  ni^ht  dere. 


■t>* 


An'  de  girl  Josephine  she  's  her  fader's  pet, 
He  never  see  nobody  lak  her  yet, 
So  w'en  he  's  goin'  on  St.  Jerome 


no  The  Old  Sexton 


For  travel  about  on  some  leetle  tour 
An'  lef  her  alone  on  de  house,  I  'm  sure 
De  house   she  's  all  right  vv'en  he   's  comin' 
home. 

Wall!  nearly  t'ree  year  is  come  an'  go, 
De  quietes'  year  de  village  know, 
For  dem  student  don't  show  hees  face, 
An'  de  peop'  is  beginnin'  to  ax  w'at  for 
Dey  're  alway  goin'  on  He  Bizard 
An'  never  pass  on  our  place. 

But  it  's  bully  tarn  for  de  ole  Narcisse, 
An'  w'en  he  's  lettin'  heem  go  de  pries' 
For  stay  away  two  t'ree  day 
He  t'ink  of  course  it  was  purty  good  chance, 
So  he  buy  heem  new  coat  an'  pair  of  pants, 
An'  go  see  hees  frien'  noder  side  de  bay. 

An'  dat  very  sam'  night,  ba  gosh!   it  seem 
De  girl  's  not  dreamin'  some  pleasan'  dream 
For  she  visit  de  worse  place  never  seen 
Down  on  T'ree  Reever,  an'  near  Kebeck 
Were  robber-man's  chokin'  her  on  de  neck — 
De  poor  leetle  Josephine! 

So  she  's  risin'  up  den  and  she  tak'  de  gun 

An'  off  on  de  winder  she  quickly  run 

For  fear  she  might  need  a  shot 

An'  dem  student  he  's  comin'  across  de  square 


The  Old  Sexton  m 


3 


Right  on  de  front  of  de  cimetiere 

An'  carryin'  somet'ing — you  know  w'at! 

So  she  's  takin'  good  aim  on  de  beeges'  man 

An'  pull  de  trigger  de  hard  she  can, 

An'  he  's  yellin'  an'  down  he  go, 

Hees  frien'  dey  say  not'ing,  but  clear  out  quick, 

Dat  's  way  Josephine  she  was  playin'  trick 

On  feller  was  treatin'  poor  dead  folk  so! 

Den  she  kick  up  a  row  an'  begin  to  feel 
Very  sorry  right  off  for  de  boy  she  keel 
An'  de  nex'  t'ing  she  's  startin'  cry 
An'  call  on  her  fader  an'  moder  too, 
Poor  leetle  Josephine  Beaulieu, 
An'  wishin'  she  'd  lak  to  die. 

But  she  did  n't  die  den,  an'  he  's  leevin'  yet — 
Dat  feller  was  comin'  so  near  hees  deat'  — 
For  she  's  nursin'  heem  back  to  life, 
Dey  're  feexin'  it  someway,  I  dunno  how, 
But  dey  're  marry  an'  leev'  in  de  city  now 
An'  she  's  makin'  heem  firse  class  wife. 

An'  Narcisse  hese'f  he  was  alway  say, 

It  's  fonny  t'ing  how  it  come  dat  way 
But  I  'm  not  very  sorry  at  all, 
Course  I  know  ma  son  he  's  not  doin'  right, 
But  man  he  was  haulin'  aroun'  dat  night 
Is  worse  ole  miser  on  Cote  St.  Paul." 


Child  Thoughts 

WRITTEN   TO    COMMEMORATE    THE   ANNIVER- 
SARY  OF   MY    BROTHER   TOM'S   BIRTHDAY 

O     MEMORY,  take  my  hand  to-day 
And  lead  me  thro'  the  darkened  bridge 
Washed  by  the  wild  Atlantic  spray 

And  spanning  many  a  wind-swept  ridge 
Of  sorrow,  grief,  of  love  and  joy, 
Of  youthful  hopes  and  manly  fears! 
O !  let  me  cross  the  bridge  of  years 
And  see  myself  again  a  boy! 

The  shadows  pass— I  see  the  light, 

0  morning  light,  how  clear  and  strong! 
My  native  skies  are  smiling  bright, 

No  more  I  grope  my  way  along, 

It  comes,  the  murmur  of  the  tide 
Upon  my  ear— I  hear  the  cry 
Of  wandering  sea  birds  as  they  fly 

In  trooping  squadrons  far  and  near. 

The  breeze  that  blows  o'er  Mullaghmore 

1  feel  against  my  boyish  cheek 

132 


Child  Thoughts  133 

The  white-walled  huts  that  strew  the  shore 
From  Castlegal  to  old  Belleek, 

The  fisher  folk  of  Donegal, 

Kindly  of  heart  and  strong  of  arm, 

Who  plough  the  ocean's  treacherous  farm, 

How  plainly  I  behold  them  all! 

The  thrush's  song,  the  blackbird's  note, 

The  wren  within  the  hawthorn  hedge, 
The  robin's  swelling  vibrant  throat, 

The  leveret  crouching  in  the  sedge! 
In  those  dear  days,  ah!  what  was  school  ? 

When  Nature  made  our  pulses  thrill! 

The  lessons  we  remember  still 
Were  learnt  at  Nature's  own  footstool! 

"  The  hounds  are  out!  the  beagles  chase 
Along  the  slopes  of  Tawley's  plain !  ' 

I  rise  and  follow  in  the  race 

Till  fox,  or  hare,  or  both  are  slain, 

With  heart  ablaze,  I  loose  the  reins 
Of  all  my  childish  fierce  desire, 
My  faith !  't  is  Ireland  plants  the  fire 

And  iron  in  her  children's  veins! 

The  mountain  linnet  whistles  sweet 
Among  the  gorse  of  summer-time, 

As  up  the  hill  with  eager  feet 

The  sun  of  morning  sees  me  climb 


134  Child  Thoughts 

Until  at  last  I  sink  to  rest 

Where  heatherbells  swing  to  the  tune 
That  Benbo  breezes  softly  croon  — 

A  tired  child  on  the  mother's  breast! 

And  now  in  wisdom's  riper  years, 
Ah,  wisdom  !  what  a  price  we  pay 

Of  sorrow,  grief,  of  smiles  and  tears, 
Before  we  reach  that  wiser  day ! 

We  meet  to  greet  in  joy  and  mirth 
The  white-haired  parent  of  us  all 
Our  childhood's  memories  to  recall 

And  bless  the  land  that  gave  us  birth. 


Bateese  and  his  Little  Decoys 

0      1  'm  very  very  tire  Marie, 
I  wonder  if  I  'm  able  hoi'  a  gun 
An'  me  dat  's  alway  risin'  wit'  de  sun 
An'  travel  on  de  water,  an'  paddle  ma  canoe 
An'  trap  de  mink  an'  beaver  de  fall  an"  winter 

t'roo, 
But  now  I  t'ink  dat  fun  is  gone  forever. 

Wall!  I  'm  mebbe  stayin'  long  enough, 
For  eighty-four  I  see  it  on  de  spring; 
Dough  ma  fader  he  was  feelin'  purty  tough 

An'  at  ninety  year  can  do  mos'  ev'ry  t'ing, 
But  I  never  know  de  feller,  don't  care  how  ole 

he  come, 
Dat  is  n't  sure  to  t'ink  he   's  got  anoder  year, 

ba  gum ! 
Before  he  lif *  de  anchor  for  de  las'  tarn! 

It  's  not  so  easy  lyin'  on  de  bed, 

An'  lissen  to  de  wil'  bird  on  de  bay, 
Dey  know  dat  poor  Bateese  is  nearly  dead, 
Or  dey  would  n't  have  such  good  fun  ev'ry 
day ! 

i35 


136    Bateese  and  his  Little  Decoys 

Put  ma  gun  upon  de  piller  near  de  winder,  jus' 

for  luck, 
Den  bring  w'ere  I  can  see  dem,  ma  own  nice 

leetle  duck 
So    I    have    some    talk    wit'    dem    mese'f   dis 

morning. 

Ah!    dere  you    're   comin'    now!    mes  beaux 
canards! 
Dat  's  very  pleasan'  day,  an'  how  you  feel  ? 

Of  course  you  dunno  w'at  I  want  you  for, 
Wall!  lately  I  've  been  t'inkin'  a  good  deal 

Of  all  de  fuss  I  'm  havin'  show  you  w'at  you 
ought  to  do 

Wen  de  cole  win'  of  October  de  blin'  is  blow- 
ing t'roo 

An'  de  bluebill  's  flyin'  up  an'  down  de  reever. 

O!  de  bodder  I  'm  havin'  wit'  you  all! 
It  's  makin'  me  feel  ole  before  ma  tarn! 

Stan'  over  dere  upon  de  right  again  de  wall, 
Ma-dame  Lapointe — I  'm  geevin'  you  Ma- 
dame 

'Cos  you  walk  aroun'  de  sam'  way  as  ma  cousin 
Aurelie 

An'  lak  youse'f  she   's  havin'   de  large  large 
familee, 

Now  let  us  see  you  don't  forget  your  lesson ! 


Bateese  and  his  Little  Decoys     137 

Qu  a-a-ck !  you  're  leetle  hoarse  to-day,  don't 

you  t'ink  ? 
Quack!  quack!    quack!    dat   's   right  Mam- 

zelle  Louise! 
You  go  lak  dat,  an'  quicker  dan  a  wink, 

It  '11  ring  across  de  lake  along  de  breeze, 
Till  de  wil'  bird  dey  will  lissen  up  de  reever 

far  an'  near, 
An'  tole  de  noder  wan  too,  de  musique  dey  was 

hear 
An'  dey  '11  fly  aroun'  our  head  before  we  know 

it. 

Come    here,    Francois,     an'    min'    you    watch 

youse'f ! 
You  can't  forget  de  las'  day  we  was  out, 
Your  breat'  dere  's  very  leetle  of  it  lef 

An'  I  tole  you  it  was  better  shut  your  tnout' 
Wen  you  start  dat  fancy  yellin',  for  it  soun' 

de  sam'  to  me 
Lak  de  devil  he  was  goin'  on  de  beeges'  kin' 

of  spree, 
Francois!    dat    's    not    de    way    for   mak'    de 

shootin' ! 

Wan — two — t'ree, — now  let  us  hear  you  please, 
It    is  n't  very  hard  job  if  you  try, 

Purten'  you  're  feelin'  lonesome  lak  Louise 
An'  want  to  see  de  sweetheart  bimeby, 


i38     Bateese  and  his  Little  Decoys 

Quack!  quack!  quack! 

O!  stop  dat    screechin',  don't  never  spik    no 

more 
For  if  anyt'ing,  sapree,  tonnerre !  you  're  worser 

dan  before, 
I  wonder  w'at  you  do  wit'  all  your  schoolin' ! 


Come  out  from  onderneat'  de  bed,  Lisette, 

I  believe  you  was  de  fattes'  of  de  lot ; 
It  'shandy  too  of  course,  for  you  never  feel  de 

wet, 
An'  w'en  you  lak  to  try  it,  O!  w'at  a  voice 

you  got ! 
So  let  us  play  it  's  blowin'  hard,  an'  duck  is  up 

de  win' 
An'  you  want  to  reach  dem — sure — now  we  're 

ready  for  begin, 
Hooraw!  an'   never  min'  de  noise  dat  you  're 

makin'. 

Quack!    quack!     quack!     quack!     O!     let    me 
tak'  de  gun 
For  I  would  n't  be  astonish  w'en   Lisette  is 
get  de  start, 
Roun'  de  house  dey  '11  come  a-flyin',  an'  den 
we  '11  have  de  fun! 
Yass,    yass,   kip    up    de    flappin',    O!    ain't 
she  got  de  heart ! 


Bateese  and  his  Little  Decoys     139 

Not  many  duck  can  beat  her,  an'  I  wish  I  had 

some  more, 
Can  mak'  de  song  lak  dat  upon  de  water! 

Dat  's  very  funny  how  it  ketch  de  crowd! 

An'  now  dey  're  goin,  all  de  younger  wan! 
But  if  you  don't  stop  singin'  out  so  loud, 

I  'm  sorry  I  mus'  tole  you  all  begone, 
'Cos  I  want  to  go  to  sleep,  for  I  'm  very  very 

tire, 
An'  de  shiver  's  comin'  on  me!  so  Marie  poke 

up  de  fire 
An'  mebbe  I  '11  feel  better  on  de  morning. 


't>* 


De  leetle  duck  may  call  on  de  spring  tarn  an' 

de  fall 
Wen  dey  see  de  wil'  bird  flyin'  on  de  air 
Dey  may  cry  aroun'  hees  door,  but  he  '11  never 

come  no  more 
For  showin'  dem  de  lesson!  ole  Jean  Bateese 

Belair. 


Phil-o-Rum's   Canoe 

OMA  ole  canoe  !  w'at  's  matter  wit'  you, 
an'  w'y  was  you  be  so  slow  ? 
Don't  I  work  hard  enough  on  de  paddle,  an' 

still  you  don't  seem  to  go — 
No  win'  at  all  on  de  fronte  side,  an'  current 

she  don't  be  strong, 
Den  w'y  are  you  lak  lazy  feller,  too  sleepy  for 
move  along  ? 


*  *     T     ' 


I  'member  de  tarn  w'en  you  jomp  de  sam'  as 

deer  wit'  de  wolf  behin' 
An'   brochet  on    de   top   de  water,  you    scare 

heem  mos'  off  hees  min' ; 
But  fish  don't  care  for  you  now  at  all,  only  jus' 

mebbe  wink  de  eye, 
For  he  know  it  's  easy  git  out  de  way  w'en  you 

was  a  passin'  by." 


I  'm  spikin'  dis  way  jus'  de  oder  day  w'en  I  'm 

out  wit'  de  ole  canoe, 
Crossin'  de  point  w'ere  I  see  las'  fall  wan  very 

beeg  caribou, 

140 


Phil-o-Rum's  Canoe  141 

Wen  somebody  say,  "  Phil-o-rum,  mon  vieux, 
wat  's  matter  wit'  you  youse'f  ?  ' 

An'  who  do  you  s'pose  was  talkin'  ?  w'y  de 
poor  ole  canoe  shese'f. 

O  yass,  I   'm  scare  w'en  I   'm  sittin'  dere,  an' 

she  's  callin'  ma  nam'  dat  way: 
'  Phil-o-rum  Juneau,  w'y  you  spik  so  moche, 

you  're  off  on  de  head  to-day 
Can't   be   you   forget   ole   feller,   you   an'   me 

we  're  not  too  young, 
An'  if  I   'm  look-in'  so  ole  lak  you,  I  t'ink  I 
will  close  ma  tongue. 


"  You  should  feel  ashame;  for  you  're  alway 
blame,  w'en  it  is  n't  ma  fault  at  all 

For  I  'm  tryin'  to  do  bes'  I  can  for  you  on  sum- 
mer-tarn, spring,  an'  fall. 

How  offen  you  drown  on  de  reever  if  I  'm  not 
lookin'  out  for  you 

Wen  you  're  takin'  too  moche  on  de  w'isky 
some  night  comin'  down  de  Soo. 

"  De  firse  tarn  we  go  on  de  Wessoneau  no  fel- 
ler can  beat  us  den, 

For  you  're  purty  strong  man  wit'  de  paddle, 
but  dat  's  long  ago  ma  frien', 


H2  Phil-o-Rum's  Canoe 

An'   win'   she  can  blow  off  de  mountain,   an' 

tonder  an'  rain  may  come, 
But  camp  see  us  bote  on  de  evening — you  know 

dat  was  true  Phil-o-rum. 


An'   who   's  your   horse    too,  but   your    ole 

canoe,  an'  w'en  you  feel  cole  an'  wet 
Who  was  your  house  w'en   I   'm  upside  down 

an'  onder  de  roof  you  get, 
Wit'  rain  ronnin'  down  ma  back,  Bapteme !  till 

I  'm  gettin'  de  rheumateez, 
An'  I  never  say  not'ing  at  all,  moi-meme,  but 

let  you  do  jus'  you  please. 

You  t'ink  it  was  right,  kip  me  out  all  night 
on  reever  side  down  below, 
An'  even  '  Bon  Soir  '  you  was  never  say,  but 

off  on  de  camp  you  go 
Leffin'   your  poor  ole  canoe  behin'   lyin'  dere 

on  de  groun' 
Watchin'    de   moon   on   de  water,  an'  de  bat 
flyin'  all  aroun'. 

O!  dat  's  lonesome  t'ing  hear  de  grey  owl 
sing  up  on  de  beeg  pine  tree 
An'  many  long  night  she  kip  me  awake  till  sun 
on  de  eas'  I  see, 


Phil-o-Rum's  Canoe  143 

An'   den  you  come  down  on  de  morning  for 

start  on  some  more  voyage, 
An'  only  t'ing  decen'  you  do  all  day  is  carry 

me  on  portage. 


'  Dat    's    way    Phil -o- rum,    rheumateez    she 

come,  wit'  pain  ronnin'  troo  ma  side 
Wan  leetle  hole  here,  noder  beeg  wan  dere,  dat 

not'ing  can  never  hide; 
Don't  do  any  good  fix  me  up  agen,  no  matter 

how  moche  you  try, 
For  w'en  we   come    ole    an'   our   work  she   's 

done,  bote  man  an'  canoe  mus'  die." 

"  Wall!  she  talk  dat  way  mebbe  mos'  de  day, 

till  we  're  passin'  some  beaver  dam 
An'  wan  de  young  beaver  he  's  mak'  hees  tail 

come  down  on  de  water  flam ! 
I  never  see  de  canoe  so  scare,  she  jomp  nearly 

two,  t'ree  feet 
I  t'ink  she  was  goin'  for  ronne  away,  an'  she 

shut  up  de  mout'  toute  suite. 

It  mak'  me  feel  queer,  de  strange  t'ing  I  hear, 
an'  I  'm  glad  she  don't  spik  no  more, 

But  soon  as  we  fin'  ourse'f  arrive  over  dere  on 
de  noder  shore 


144  Phil-o-Rum's  Canoe 

I  tak'  dat  canoe  lak  de  lady,  an'  carry  her  off 

wit'  me, 
For   I    'm   sorry  de  way   I   treat  her,    an'  she 

know  more  dan  me,  sapree ! 

Yass!  dat  's  smart  canoe,  an'  I  know  it 's  true, 

w'at  she  's  spikin'  wit'  me  dat  day, 
I  'm  not  de  young  feller  I  use  to  be  w'en  work 

she  was  only  play ; 
An'  I  know  I  was  comin'  closer  on  place  w'ere 

I  mus'  tak'  care 
W'ere  de  mos'  worse  current  's  de  las'  wan  too, 

de  current  of  Dead  Riviere. 

You  can  only  steer,   an'  if  rock  be  near,  wit' 

wave  dashin'  all  aroun', 
Better  mak'  leetle  prayer,  for  on  Dead  Riviere 

some  very  smart  man  get  drown ; 
But  if  you  be  locky  an'  watch  youse'f,  mebbe 

reever  won't  seem  so  wide, 
An'  firse  t'ing  you  know  you  '11  ronne  ashore, 

safe  on  de  noder  side. 


The  Log  Jam 

DERE  's  a  beeg  jam  up  de  reever,    w'ere 
rapide  is  runnin'  fas', 
An'  de  log  we  cut  las'  winter  is  takin'  it  all 
de  room  ; 
So  boss  of  de  gang  is  swearin',  for  not'ing  at 
all  can  pass 
An'  float  away  down  de  current  till  some- 
body break  de  boom. 

Here  's  for  de  man  will  tak'  de  job,  holiday 

for  a  week 
Extra  monee   w'en  pay  day  come,  an'  ten 

dollar  suit  of  clothes. 
'T  is  n't  so  hard  work  run  de  log,  if  only  you 

do  it  quick — 
W'ere    's  de  man  of  de  gang  den  is  ready 

to  say,  '  Here  goes  ?  '  " 

Dere  was  de  job  for  a  feller,  handy  an'  young 
an'  smart, 
Willin'  to  tak'  hees  Chances,  willin'  to  risk 
hees  life. 


M5 


H6  The  Log  Jam 

'Cos  many  a  t'ing  is  safer,  dan  tryin'  de  boom 
to  start, 
For  if  de  log  wance  ketch  you,  dey  're  cut- 
tin'  you  lak  a  knife. 


Aleck  Lachance   he   lissen,  an'    answer  heem 

right  away 
Marie  Louise  dat  's  leevin'  off  on  de  shore 

close  by 

She  's  sayin'  de  word  was  mak'  me  mos'  hap- 

pies'  man  to-day 

An'   if  you  ax  de   reason  I  'm  ready  to  go, 

at   s  w  y. 

Pierre  Delorme  he  's  spikin'  den,  an'  O!  but 

he  's  lookin'  glad. 
'  Dis  morning  de  sam'  girl  tole  me,  she  mus' 

say  to  me,  '  Good-bye  Pierre.' 
So  no  wan  can  stop  me  goin',  for  I  feel  I  was 
comin'  mad 
An'  wedder  I  see  to-morrow,  dat  's  not'ing, 
for  I  don't  care." 


Aleck  Lachance  was  steady,  he  's  bully  boy  all 
aroun', 
Alvvay    sendin'    de    monee    to    hees   moder 
away  below, 


The  Log  Jam  H7 

Now  an'  den  savin'  a  leetle  for  buyin'  de  house 
an'  groun', 
An'  never  done  t'inkin',  t'inkin'   of  Marie 
Louise  Lebeau. 


Pierre  was  a  half-breed  feller,  we  call  heem  de 
grand  Nor'  Wes' — 
Dat  is  de  place  he  's  leevin'  w'en  he  work 
for  de  Compagnie, 
Dey  say  he  's  marry  de  squaw  dere,  never  min' 
about  all  de  res' — 
An'  affer  he  get  hees  monee,  he  's  de  boy 
for  de  jamboree! 

Ev'ry  wan  start  off  cheerin'  w'en  dey  pass  on 
de  log  out  dere 
Jompin'  about  lak  monkey,  Aleck  an'  Pierre 
Delorme. 
Workin'  de  sam'    as   twenty,    an'  runnin'  off 
ev'ryw'ere, 
An'  busy  on  all  de  places,  lak  beaver  before 
de  storm. 

Den  we  hear  some  wan  shoutin',  an'  dere  was 
dat  crazy  girl, 
Marie  Louise,  on  de  hillside,  cryin'  an'  raisin' 
row. 


1 48  The  Log  Jam 

Could  n't  do  not'ing  worser!  mos'  foolish  t'ing 
on  de  worl' 
For    Pierre    Delorme    an'     Aleck    was    n't 
workin'  upon  de  scow. 


Bote  of  dem  turn  aroun'  dere  w'en  girl  is  com- 

mencin'  cry, 
Lak  woman  I  wance  remember,  got  los'  on 

de  bush  t'ree  day, 
Look  how  de  log  is  movin' !  I   'm  seein'  it 

wit'  ma  eye, 
Come  back  out  of  all  dem  danger!  "  an'  den 

she  was  faint  away. 


Ten    year    I    been    reever   driver,    an'    mebbe 
know  somet'ing  too, 
An'  dere  was  n't  a  man  don't  watch  for  de 
minute  dem  log  she  go; 
But  never  a  word  from  de  boss  dere,  stannin' 
wit'  all  hees  crew, 
So  how    she  can  see  dem  movin'  don't    ax 
me,  for  I  dunno. 

Hitch  dem  all  up  togeder,  t'ousan'  horse  crazy 
mad — 
Only  a  couple  of  feller  for  han'le  dem  ev'ry 
wan, 


The  Log  Jam  149 

Scare  dem  wit'  t'onder  an'  lightning,  an'  den  't 
is  n't  half  so  bad 
As    log  runnin'    down    de    rapide,  after   de 
boom  she  's  gone. 


See  dem  nex'  day  on  de  basin,  you  t'ink  dey 
was  t'roo  de  fight 
Cut  wit'  de  sword  an'  bullet,  lyin'  along  de 
shore 
You  'd  pity  de  log,    I  'm  sure,   an'  say  't  was 
terrible  sight 
But  man  goin'  t'roo  de  sam'  t'ing,   you  'd 
pity  dat  man  some  more. 

An'  Pierre  w'en  he  see  dem  goin'  an'  log  jom- 
pin'  up  an'  down 
De  sign  of  de  cross  he  's  makin'  an'  dive  on 
de  water  dere, 
He  know  it  's  all  up  hees  chances,  an'  he  rader 
be  goin'  drown 
Dan  ketch  by  de  rollin'  timber,  an'  dat  's 
how  he  go,  poor  Pierre. 

Aleck's  red  shirt  is  blazin'  off  w'ere  we  hear  de 
log 
Crackin'  away  an'  bangin',  sam'  as  a  honder 

gun, 


1 5°  The  Log  Jam 

Lak'  sun  on  de  morning  tryin'  to  peep  t'roo 
de  reever  fog — 
But  Aleck's  red  shirt  is  redder  dan  ever  I  see 
de  sun. 


An'    w'en    dey     're    tryin'    wake    her:    Marie 

Louise  Lebeau, 
On  her  neck  dey  fin'  a  locket,  she  's  kipin'  so 

nice  an'  warm, 

An*  dey  're  tolin'  de  funny  story,  de  funnies' 

I  dunno — 
For  de  face,  Bapteme!  dey  see  dere,  was  de 

half-breed  Pierre  Delorme! 


-  \  »»    •  '■>  ■-■■  1    l'.J 


■ 


-   :     ^^ S38lll^  ■  '■"•■ 


M 


The  Canadian  Magpie 


OS'  ev'ryvvan  lak  de  robin 

An'  it  's  pleasan'  for  hear  heem  sing, 


Affer  de  winter  's  over 

An'  it  's  comin'  anoder  spring. 

De  snow  's  hardly  off  de  mountain 
An'  it  's  cole  too  among  de  pine 

But  you  know  w'en  he  sing,  de  sout'  win' 
Is  crowdin'  heem  close  behin'. 


An'  mebbe  you  hear  de  grosbec 

Sittin'  above  de  nes' — 
An'  you  see  by  de  way  he  's  goin' 

De  ole  man  's  doin'  hees  bes' 
Makin'  de  wife  an'  baby 

Happy  as  dey  can  be — 
An'  proud  he  was  come  de  fader 

Such  fine  leetle  familee. 

151 


i52         The  Canadian  Magpie 

De  gouglou  of  course  he  's  nicer 

Dan  many  de  bird  dat  fly, 
Dunno  w'at  we  do  widout  heem, 

But  offen  I  wonder  w'y 
He  can't  stay  quiet  a  minute 

Lak  res'  of  de  small  ciseaux 
An'  finish  de  song  he  's  startin' 

Till  whish  !  an'  away  he  go  ! 

Got  not'ing  to  say  agen  dem, 

De  gouglou  an'  all  de  res' — 
'Cept  only  dey  lak  de  comfort, 

An'  come  w'en  it  suit  dem  bes* — 
For  soon  as  de  summer  's  passin' 

An'  leaf  is  begin  to  fall — 
You  '11  walk  t'roo  de  wood  an'  medder 

An'  never  hear  wan  bird  call. 

But  come  wit'  me  on  de  winter 

On  place  w'ere  de  beeg  tree  grow 
De  smoke  of  de  log  house  chimley 

Will  tole  you  de  way  to  go — 
An'  if  you  're  not  too  unlucky 

De  w'iskey  jack  dere  you  '11  see 
Flyin'  aroun'  de  shaintee 

An'  dat  was  de  bird  for  me. 

You  '11  mebbe  not  lak  hees  singin' 
Dough  it  's  better  dan  not'ing  too, 


The  Canadian  Magpie         153 

For  after  he  do  hees  bes',  den 

Wat  more  can  poor  Johnnie  do  ? 

It  's  easy  job  sing  on  summer 
De  sam'  as  de  rossignol — 

But  out  of  door  on  de  winter 
Jus'  try  it  youse'f — dat  's  all. 

See  heem  dere,  now  he  's  comin' 

Hoppin'  an'  hoppin'  aroun' 
Wen  we  start  on  de  morning  early 

For  work  till  de  sun  go  down — 
T'row  heem  hees  piece  of  breakfas' 

An'  hear  heem  say  "  merci  bien," 
For  he  's  fond  of  de  pork,  ba  golly ! 

Sam'  as  de  Canayen. 

De  noise  of  de  axe  don't  scare  heem 

He  stay  wit'  us  all  de  day, 
An'  w'en  he  was  feelin'  lak'  it 

Ride  home  wit'  de  horse  an'  sleigh. 
Den  after  we  reach  de  shaintee 

He  's  waitin'  to  see  us  back 
Jompin'  upon  de  log  dere 

Good  leetle  w'iskey  jack! 

So  here  's  to  de  bird  of  winter 

Wearin'  de  coonskin  coat, 
W'enever  it  's  bird  election 

You  bet  he  can  get  ma  vote — 


154        The  Canadian  Magpie 

Dat  's  way  I  be  feel  about  it, 
Voyageurs  let  her  go  today! 

W'iskey  jack,  get  ready,  we  drink  you 
Toujours  a  vot'  bonne  sante ! 
Bapteme ! 


The   Red  Canoe 

DE  win'   is  sleepin'   in  de  pine,  but  O!  de 
night  is  black! 
An'  all  day  long  de  loon  bird  cry  on  Lac  Waya- 

gamack — 
No  light  is  shinin'  by  de  shore  for  helpin'  steer 

heem  t'roo 
Wen  out  upon  de  night,  Ubalde  he  tak'  de 
red  canoe. 


I  hear  de  paddle  dip,  dip,  dip!  wance  more  I 

hear  de  loon — 
I  feel  de  breeze  was  show  de  way  for  storm 

dat  's  comin'  soon, 
An'    den    de  sky  fly  open    wit'    de    lightning 

splittin'  t'roo — 
An'   'way  beyon'  de  point  I  see  de  leetle  red 

canoe. 


It  's  dark  again,  but  lissen  how  across  Waya- 
gamack 

De  tonder  's  roarin'  loud,  an'  now  de  mount- 
ains answer  back — 

155 


156  The  Red  Canoe 

I  wonder  wit'  de  noise  lak  dat,  he  hear  me,  le 

bon  Dieu 
Wen  on  ma  knee  I  ax  Heem  save  de  leetle  red 

canoe ! 

Is  dat  a  voice,  so  far  away,  it  die  upon  ma  ear? 
Or  only  win'  was  foolin'    me,    an'    w'isperin' 

Belzemire  "  ? 
Yaas,    yaas,    Ubalde,    your    Belzemire    she  's 

prayin'  hard  for  you — 
An'  den  again  de  lightning  come,  but  w'ere  's 

de  red  canoe  ? 

Dey  say  I  'm  mad,  dem  foolish  folk,  cos  w'en 

de  night  is  black 
An*  w'en  de  wave  lak  snow-dreef  come  on  Lac 

Wayagamack 
I  tak'  de  place  w'ere  long  ago  we  use  to  sit,  us 

two, 
An'  wait  until  de  lightning  bring  de  leetle  red 
canoe. 


Two  Hundred  Years  Ago 

TWO  honder  year  ago,  de  woiT  is  purty  slow- 
Even    folk   upon  dis    contree   's    not    so 
smart, 
Den    who    is   travel    roun'    an'    look   out   de 
pleasan'  groun' 
For  geev'  de  Yankee  peop'  a  leetle  start  ? 
I  '11  tole  you  who  dey  were!  de  beeg    rough 

voyageurs, 
Wit  deir  cousin  w'at  you  call  coureurs  de  bois, 
Dat  's  fightin'  all  de  tarn,  an'  never  care  a  dam, 
An'    ev'ry    wan    dem   feller  he  's    come  from 
Canadaw 

Bapteme! 
He  's  comin'  all  de  way  from  Canadaw. 

But  He  watch  dem,  le  bon  Dieu.  for  He  's  got 
some  work  to  do, 
An  He  won't  trus'  ev'ry  body,  no  siree! 
Only  full  blood  Canadien,  lak  Marquette  an' 
Hennepin, 
An'  w'at  you  t'ink  of  Louis  Verandrye  ? 

i57 


158     Two  Hundred  Years  Ago 

On   church  of  Bonsecours!    makin'    ready   for 

de  tour, 
See  dem  down  upon  de  knee,  all  prayin'  dere — 
Wit'  de  paddle  on  de  han'   ev'ry  good  Canad- 

ien  man, 
An'  affer  dey  be  finish,  hooraw  for  anyw'ere. 

Yass,  sir! 
Dey  're  ready  now  for  goin'  anyw'ere. 

De   nort'  win'  know  dem  well,  an'  de  prairie 
grass  can  tell 
How  offen  it  is  trample  by  de  ole  tarn  botte 
sauvage — 
An'  grey  wolf  on  hees  den  kip  very  quiet,  w'en 
He  hear  dem  boy  a'  singin'   upon  de  long 
portage. 
An'  de  night  would  fin'  dem  lie  wit'  deir  faces 

on  de  sky, 
An'  de  breeze  would  come  an'  w'isper  on  deir 

ear 
'Bout  de  wife  an'  sweetheart  dere  on  Sorel  an' 

Trois  Rivieres 
Dey  may  never  leev'  to  see  anoder  year, 

Dat  's  true, 
Dey  may  never  leev'  to  kiss  anoder  year. 

An'  you  '11  know   de   place  dey  go,   from  de 
canyon  down  below, 
Or  de  mountain  wit'  hees  nose  above  de  cloud, 


Two  Hundred  Years  Ago     159 

De  lake  among  de   hill,  w'ere  de  grizzly  drink 

hees  fill 
Or  de  rapid  on  de  reever  roarin'  loud ; 
Ax    de   wil'    deer   if  de  flash  of  de  ole  Tree 

Reever  sash 
He  don't  see  it  on  de  woods  of  Illinois 
An'  de  musk  ox  as  he  go,  w'ere  de  camp  fire 

melt  de  snow, 
De  smell  he  still  remember  of  tabac  Canadien 

Ha!  Ha! 
It  's  hard  forgettin'  smell  of  tabac  Canadien ! 

So,  ma  frien',  de  Yankee  man,  he  mus'  try  an' 

understan' 
Wen    he   holler    for   dat    flag   de    Star   an' 

Stripe, 
If  he  's  leetle  win'  still  lef,  an'  no  danger  hurt 

hese'f, 
Den  he  better  geev'  anoder  cheer,  ba  cripe! 
For  de  flag  of  la  belle  France,  dat  show  de  way 

across 
From  Louisbourg  to  Florida  an'  back ; 
So  raise  it  ev'ryw'ere,  lak'  de  ole   tarn   voy- 

ageurs, 
Wen  you  hear  of  de  la  Salle  an'  Cadillac— 

Hooravv ! 
For  de  flag  of  de  la  Salle  an'  Cadillac. 


i6i 


JOHNNIE  COURTEAU 

AND  OTHER  POEMS 

By  William  Henry  Drummond,  author  of  "The  Habitant 
and  other  French  Canadian  Poems."     Fully  illustrated  by 
Frederick  Simpson  Coburn. 
Popular  Edition.     8vo.     (By  mail  $1.35)         .  .     net  $1.25 

Large  Paper  Edition.     With  17  photogravure  illus- 
trations and  text  cuts.      (By  mail  $2.65)  .  .     net  $2.50 

It  is  unusual  nowadays  for  the  volume  of  poems  to  meet 
with  an  extended  sale,  but  of  Dr.  Drummond's  collection  of 
poems  entitled  "The  Habitant,"  25,000  copies  have  been 
sold.  His  new  volume  strikes  the  same  note  in  singing  of  the 
simple  sturdy  characters  of  the  North  woods.  Dr.  Drummond 
is  himself  a  Canadian  as  is  also  Mr.  Coburn,  the  illustrator. 


THE  HABITANT 

AND  OTHER  FRENCH  CANADIAN  POEMS 

By  William  Henry  Drummond.      Illustrated  by  Frederick 

Simpson  Coburn. 
Popular  Edition.     Illustrated.     8vo.        .         .         .         -$1.25 
Large  Paper  Edition.      With   14  photogravure  illustra- 
tions .........    2.50 

"  Dr.  Drummond  has  managed  to  move  us  to  tears,  as  well  as  laughter. 
He  has  evidently  a  minute  knowledge  of,  and  a  kindly  sympathy  with  the 
simple  country  folk  of  the  Dominion.  As  a  whole  the  book  is  a  most 
delightful  one." — London  Spectator. 

"  Marks  a  distinct  advance  in  Canadian  literature.  As  a  runner  of  an 
unblazed  trail  Dr.  Drummond  has  done  an  important  service  to  Canada,  to 
the  habitant,  and  to  lovers  of  clean,  wholesome  writing." — Outing. 


Q.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 


PH1L=0=RUM'S  CANOE 

And  Madeleine  Vercheres.  Two  Poems.  By  William 
Henry  Drummond,  author  of  "The  Habitant."  With  five 
photogravure  illustrations  by  Frederick  Simpson  Coburn. 
i6mo,  75  cts. 

PRESS    NOTICES 

"  Breathes  throughout  the  odors  and  pulses  with  the  life  of  the  primeval 
forest." — Evening  Post,  Chicago. 

"  In  '  Madeleine  Vercheres  '  Drummond  reminds  us  forcibly  of  Macaulay. 
— '  Phil-o-Rum's  Canoe'  overflows  with  humor  and  pathos." — Titties- 
Herald,   Chicago. 

"  Most  appropriate  souvenir  of  Canada  and  of  this  festive  season. 
'  Phil-o-Rum's  Canoe '  is  the  story  told  by  the  canoe  when  its  work  is 
almost  over,  when  the  paddle  has  ceased  its  song,  and  the  Dead  Rivere 
is  just  ahead." — Montreal  Herald. 

"In  '  Phil-o-Rum's  Canoe'  Dr.  Drummond  opens  up  the  founts  of  tears 
and  laughter,  and  touches  the  simpler  things  of  life,  so  as  to  stir  the 
depths  of  human   tenderness." — Montreal  Gazette. 

"  Both  author  and  artist  enter  most  heartily  and  sympathetically  into  the 
life  of  Lower  Canada,  and  portray  its  humor  and  pathos,  its  spirit  and 
legends,  in  a  way  that  is  finding  a  world-wide  audience.  '  Phil-o-Rum's 
Canoe '  is  captivating   and   delightful." — Christian    Guardian,   Toronto. 

'  Le  Canot  de  Phil-o-Rum '  et '  Madeleine  Vercheres '  sont  deux  nouveaux 
poemes,  qui  ceux  de  'L'Habitant'  revelent  tout  le  patriotisme,  toute  la 
sincerite,  tout  a  la  naivete,  toute  la  poesie  enfin,  de  nos  raves  paysans." 
— La  Presse,   Montreal. 

"  Gracieux  et  charmant  qu'on  aime  toujours  a  relire." — La  Patrie, 
Montreal. 


Q.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  New  York  and  London 


Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


JUN  2  6  1961 


orm  L9-42m-8,'49(B5573)444 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


3R         Drumnond  - 
4623   "Johnnie- 
n,i        Courteau 


^MfcZWM 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  379  256 


PR 
1628 

D3j 


